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fallingskiesandrisingseas · 7 months

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Today, Peter Pevensie after Narnia.

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Peter has severe body dysmorphia when he comes back.

He used to be strong, reliable. Able to pick up his sister with one hand and fence with the other one. He prided himself on it, had arm wrestling contests with minotaurs and centaurs.

The first time he walks down the stairs he falls flat on his face. He's not used to his legs being half a foot shorter than they used to be.

His teachers don't understand how he turned into such a mess. He was normal, right? He was normal before he was sent away?

They talk of the way war hurts young children. They don't know just how true that is.

Peter cannot find his scars anymore. His body is soft, the skin unbroken. It fosters a rage in him so loud that teachers have to scold him every week. He fights with class bullies all the time. They gang up on him. They usually lose. They eventually stop trying.

Peter fights with honour, though. Closed fists, never below the belt, no permanent damage. If he gets the chance he will even take off his lion rings.

Long nights crying are replaced by sessions in the gym. Peter has pride like a wounded lion, will not let himself be pushed around. He gets used to his new body, makes it strong. Others worry over this obsession with strenght.

His siblings know it is because he has to regain an identity all by himself. Sure, they were royalty too, but he was the High King, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands. He was the face of their court, the man behind the flag.

Others brought more back from Narnia then he did. Lucy has dancing, Edmund has chess, Susan has diplomacy and her silver tongue.

Peter had his crown, his country, his duties and his sword. Peter, even when stranded on a lone island, always had his wit and his strenght.

All that is lost in England, where he is not allowed to speak before his father, where he no longer has authority. He has to respect teachers talking about war while he knows they never fought.

He sits in the front of class still. He learns to hide the snarl, the comeback, the lazy sarcasm that fits a High King but not a 14 year old kid. Stops challenging his teachers verbally. He adjusts. His curiosity never leaves him, and his manners, he reminds himself, shouldn't neither.

He's cunning and clever and articulates himself well. Teachers often feel the need to call him arrogant, but he isn't that.

He's confident and secure, doesn't seem to suffer from teenage angst. He has endured loss, that they know. But they haven't a clue what he lost.

Peter is insufferable for the first 2 months he comes back from Caspian's Narnia. A kingdom, gone. Even with Aslan's words this is a hard lesson.

Then he becomes a man no one knew he could be.

Peter doesn't back down from bullies or harsh teachers. Peter doesn't ask for justice, he demands it.

Peter is brave. Two weeks after he's back, he sees a vet begging in the streets, harassed by a group of young men. He jumps in, comes home with a tooth missing and his knuckles bloodied.

When the vet is admitted to the hospital, no one believes the stories he tells. He says he saw a 15-year old veteran. The look in his eyes gave it away, he assures his physicians. That's a war look.

Peter is much more aware than he seems, can burn right through you with his glares. He takes critique seriously, but doesn't do well with disrespect, no matter who it's from.

Teachers hate that.

Despite this, kids like Peter, eventually. He's popular. Adults listen to him, which is strange. Not many 14 year old kids can command a room the way he can. They gravitate towards him, somehow.

It helps he grows tall faster than seems possible and walks so straight that it adds inches to his height. It helps he tells stories so vividly they almost come alive before their eyes. It helps he is cool under pressure, self-assured, broadshouldered. He's pious, goes to church every Sunday.

Peter settles eventually, a little slower than Susan and Edmund but before Lucy. He discovers the fencing club and immediately becomes the most talented member by a distance. Three weeks after he joins he beats the instructor. It makes him easier to manage, takes the edge of him.

He likes to quip while fencing. It's sometimes quite dark.

He's helpful though. His classmates don't take offence; Peter tells often and gladly of his instructor, a man named Oreius. He makes it sound like he was the greatest fencer in the country, always calls him "swordmaster".

He's often archaic with his speech like that.

His teachers are glad that the anger has faded. He's become better at many things, they discuss among themselves. An excellent writer, a brilliant fencer. A very strong debater. Peter, they conclude, makes sure things get done. The makings of a leader.

Peter likes languages. He's the one that remembers Narnian the best, uses it to learn a few other tongues. He likes sailing, and riding horses. His academic performances always improve after physical exercise, he can feel his brain speed up when the blood is flowing. Stories about who taught him that, who taught ALL the Pevensies that, circulate widly. Peter smiles when he hears he must've been recruited by MI6. He doesn't fight the allegations.

Women take a liking to him as he ages. He has "old-time charm", they say, even though they don't understand exactly what that means.

Chivalrous. That's the word they look for often. When they find out he can dance too, all of them fall head over heels. Peter is never smug about it, always remains polite. He doesn't kiss and tell.

He talks to his sisters and brother often.

Edmund seems like his shadow, but Peter never treats him like a little brother. He respects his input, often asks him for advice. Many are astonished when they find out Edmund is only 11 years old. They don't bicker. He dances with Lucy, talks deeply and seriously with Susan.

The Pevensies are close, and Peter is the oldest brother. He behaves like that, too.

He is the first to sign up for the war effort, eager to defend his nation and his family. But despite doing very well in selection, he doesn't get a frontline position. His skills, his supervisors decide, are better put to use elsewhere. He's too good to be cannon fodder.

Lucy and Edmund are secretely somewhat glad when he leaves to work with Susan in the States after he turns 19. Getting a date is very hard when Peter Pevensie is your older brother. And the States are safe.

Potential partners tend to be a little ... intimidated around him. Golden child, blond hair, 6"3, built like a brick, VERY protective of them, and fencing champion; Peter is a lot. He's disarming when you get to know him, but still.

They never liked Peter in the front lines, anyway.

Narnia never leaves his mind. Back from America with a BA in History and work experience from a secret service, he has dinner with the Friends of Narnia, sees the spectre, goes to find the rings.

He dies happy.

#peter pevensie #narnia meta #narnia #prince caspian #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie

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supernovasilence · 5 months

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narnia au where their parents were with them at the train station during the beginning of Prince Caspian. To say goodbye to them. Their parents being a little bit clingy(ptsd and overprotectiveness) wanted to both see them off on the train. The parents accidentally end up in Narnia with them. Shenanigans abound. Just imagine these two proper British parents having to deal with the fact that a magical talking lion made their children Kings and Queens, and they were for 15 years in Narnia, Narnia in general, watching their children fight and command armies, Caspian, and the fact that their kids are not really children anymore. Also Mrs and Mr Pevensies having to rely on their children in this unfamiliar place.

ooh yes, there is definitely untapped potential in Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie ending up in Narnia. They would struggle so much with everything. Why are there talking animals and trees and water. Why won't our children listen to us. Who gave our tiny daughter a dagger. Why are her siblings acting like Lucy having a dagger is fine.

Also, if they tag along from the start of PC, they would quickly meet Trumpkin, and I'm laughing so hard at the thought. Because he's also a pretty skeptical person, but they'd have different ideas of what counts as reasonable.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie: a real dwarf? How is he here? How did we get here?

Lucy: oh, Aslan probably summoned us.

Trumpkin: the magical king lion? don't be ridiculous. everyone knows there haven't been talking lions in Narnia in centuries

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie: but other animals talking is normal

Trumpkin: obviously

Also the battle at the end? There are very serious thoughts to be had about the parents seeing their children all grown up, and realizing how capable they are (and mourning a little at how much responsibility they've obviously had to shoulder so young. they sent their children to the countryside to give them as much childhood as they could, and instead war found them. war and greater burdens than they would have had back home), but I keep getting distracted trying to decide which would be funnier, the book or the movie version.

Movie:

Mr. and Mrs. P: Lucy's not riding into battle! None of you should, but especially her!

Peter: don't be ridiculous

Peter: she's riding alone into the forest to find a lion

Or there's the book version of events, where Peter, Edmund, and Caspian fight in the battle while Susan and Lucy are off riding around on a lion, and literal Bacchus shows up with Silenus and a bunch of maenads and they conjure grape vines and wine everywhere.

(askfjdl and then Edmund eats dirt. The dryads are eating dirt at the victory feast and Edmund eats some because it looks like chocolate and imagine his parents. They've just started accepting their children actually are grown up and capable and royalty--and then their youngest son eats dirt.)

Also, maybe Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie look at Caspian and go "oh, another child carrying way too much responsibility. oh, you're an orphan and your uncle tried to kill you? okay, we have five children now"

#asks #darkcrowprincess #the chronicles of narnia #prince caspian #helen pevensie #richard pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #trumpkin (narnia)#caspian the tenth #the pevensies #pevensie parents in narnia #nova actually answers asks

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donde-quiera · 1 year

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○ WHEN FALLING FOR YOU ⨟ HEADCANONS

peter pevensie x gn!reader — aslan help him. ↬ fluff!

• ha whipped

• boy oh boy who would have thought that rallying armies and talking to someone you fancy would be two entirely different battles.

• he’s painfully aware of how his High King™️ persona falters around you.

• he wants so badly to exude that regal composure and charm, but instead he's clearing his throat to stall for time to articulate properly after you hold his gaze for too long.

• he’s mortified and more than a little vexed. you think it’s endearing.

• truth is, between stumbling through wars and acting as the head of narnian nobility he hasn’t had the chance to really court someone.

• lucy brings up the topic most often and he humors her by rolling his eyes and saying he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

• (except he is now falling off that bridge.)

• he always held you in high regard and in the back of his mind he dreaded the inevitable moment those feelings softed into romantic attraction.

• now they have and it sucks. he’s conflicted and may avoid you for a bit because he's very aware of the implications of courting a king. the high king. of narnia.

• this kinda backfires on him though because the more he withdraws the more worried you get, and the more he can imagine you next to him in cair paravel.

• so finally — for once — he goes to susan.

• after hearing him out she tells him you might not even feel the same anyway dummy to stop being so serious about it. he may be high king but that doesn’t mean he has to pressure himself into finding narnia’s next addition to the throne room. he has to decide if he’s even happy with the person first. (and to put a little more faith in you too. if there’s anyone who would be understanding about the situation it would be you.)

• she’s right so with that in mind he lets himself stare at you from across the courtyard more often.

• his attention has wandered to you on more than one occasion during council gatherings and he’ll blink when someone finally asks his opinion.

• “is . . . his highness feeling al-” “yes — do continue.”

• now susan probably off-handedly told lucy, and lucy immediately told edmund. (god no.)

• edmund finds the entire situation beyond amusing and will proceed to raise actual hell for his brother.

• peter’s blood pressure is that much higher because of this.

• edmund will ask you to help look for something in a room he knows peter just entered.

• or one time in the middle of a social event after lucy complimented your newly sewn clothes, “i agree, the color is quite befitting. what do you think, peter? do you think the color is quite befitting?”

• peter’s glare would have been sharper if he wasn’t coughing into his drink.

• gremlin behavior.

• if you’re on the quieter side he always gets the room to shut up settle down so you can share your thoughts;

• which doesn’t take much because most of the courtesans consider you his betrothed anyway jfjdjd

• “your grace was most eloquent during the meeting this morning.” “oh, thank you . . . but i’m not-” “royalty? i beg your pardon; i merely presumed!” which leaves you oddly flattered and very confused.

• if you adjust the tunic of his armor, tap his visor, and wish him luck for a tournament he’ll give you a tight-lipped smile before tugging it down and striding away to hide his warm cheeks.

• god help whoever has the audacity to smartmouth you around him. though not that anyone would, considering both your reputations among the narnians but also because if anyone did they’d be in for a cold shot of english sarcasm.

• lucy thinks you guys are the cutest and he’s much more accepting of her comments compared to ed’s teasing.

• but joke's on you because if edmund is in charge of teasing peter, lucy is the one poking you.

• “so what do you think of peter?” “well, he’s brave, decisive, and-” “yes, yes, of course, but what do you really think of him?”

• she’s all smiley when you avert your eyes and say you guess you’re fond of him.

• susan is just happy to have another level head around and thinks you’re good for her brother plus you don’t put up with his shit

• you’re the only one he listens to.

• when he inevitably loses his patience with someone one disappointed look from you has him begrudgingly apologizing, and the siblings aren’t sure whether to be jealous or impressed.

• cue them occasionally taking advantage of this because when else are they gonna get this opportunity?

• “peter said i shouldn’t ride side saddle!” “what? peter, why?” “because she’s more likely to fall off that way.” “your sister has endured a lot worse than falling off a horse, pete.” “see?” “oh, alright.”

• even susan, “i think we should make camp by the stream.” “yes, but the trees provide more shelter from the wind.” “flowers grow close to the stream.” she says it like it's obvious. his finger taps his sheath. he’s looking at the water. “you could give a flower to-” “fine.”

• he did give you that flower. it was purple and you liked it a lot. what you didn’t notice was lucy giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up from behind a bush and susan elbowing ed for rolling his eyes.

— con amor; drink your water or i’ll find you <3

#peter pevensie x reader #narnia x reader #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #peter pevensie #narnia prince caspian #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #i was up at ungodly hours for this

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missdawnandherdusk · 7 months

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All Good Things to Those Who Wait

Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

There goes the last great American dynasty

Who knows if she never showed up, what could have been

There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen

She had a marvelous time ruinin' everything

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

The Chapter That Never Happened Chapter 13

Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Summary: tying up some loose ends :)

A/n: *emerges from the void*

Everything has an ending. The best stories, and the worst ones. Looking back at my story, there was no better ending I could have asked the stars for. I lost people I loved but I also stood for what I believed in and led an army to victory. No one would forget what had happened in those days. The days of the Great War.

But what is life without tying up a few loose ends. You’ve come with me this far on this journey, and now as I look back, perhaps there are some things that you’d like to know. Some conversations you’d like to hear. Some people you’d like to meet or see again. So, here are those loose ends, tied together.

**********************************

I stepped onto the porch of my childhood home. It was in the efforts to try and find my mother, and try to find some peace and meaning after the past years. Draco came with me, at my side.

“She’s not here,” I sighed, knowing before we even stepped foot in the house that my mother wasn’t waiting for me. “And somehow that hurt’s more,”

“She’ll come in her own time love,” Draco soothed. Maybe he was right, or maybe I’d always be searching for her in the stars like I looked for my father.

Draco and I sat on the porch that night, watching the sun set and the fireflies come to life in the meadow that blanketed around us.

“You cast a patronus,” Draco said as I laid my head on his shoulder, watching the wildflowers dance in the wind.

“I know,” A smile touched my lips.

“It was a dragon,”

“Yeah,” I took his hand into mine, thinking back to the first night Draco cast his own patronus with my father’s wand. How things had changed since then. “My mother always told me that one day I’d find my patronus and it would watch over me like my father,”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“I don’t think you need anyones protection,” The humor in his voice gave way to the smile that I couldn’t see.

“It’s still nice to have someone beside me—to fight alongside me,”

He was quiet a moment before airing his doubts. “Do you think that maybe…” I knew where he was going with the thought, because it had been chipping at the back of my mind.

“Because they’re so different we’re not meant to be together?” I mused, finishing his worried thought.

“Yeah,” He sighed.

“No,” I sat up, facing him. “I think they’re just right for us. I’ve thought about it—more than I should. But in reality… if we think about it, your lion,”

“Aslan,” Draco’s fingers brushed over my locket. A smile crept to my lips and I nodded.

“And the first task,”

“The what?” I had caught him off guard, a beautiful sight to behold.

“Our fourth year, that first task of the tournament.” Realization struck him.

“Our patronus’ show the start of us—when we really first started to trust each other.” I took his hand back into mine. “They’re not so different after all,”

He laughed without fear and kissed me softly, before pulling me closer. “The start of us,” Draco mused, and maybe he could see them like I could: a younger me standing there, skeptically looking at a younger Draco. Before the war, before the long nights, secret kiss, tears, laughter, love and loss. Two kids who took a chance.

When the sun cleared the horizon and its final rays fading, Draco and I headed inside—to the empty house that still promised to protect me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on the door. In the week that we had been here, no one had disturbed out haven. No one knew we were here.

Draco looked up from his book. I dislodged myself from the couch and his arms, and went to answer the door, on guard. I stared at the one standing before me, not knowing how to quite process it.

“Hi, mum,” I whispered.

“Hello,”

Time stilled around us. Everything came rushing to the surface only to be stopped by my unparted lips. One thought escaped.

“I did it,” my voice was barely audible.

“I’m so proud of you,”

Tears stung my eyes. After all was said and done relief flooded through me more than anger did. Perhaps it was the peace that blanketed the Wizarding world that calmed my hurt.

“Mum,” My voice broke into tears. Amity wrapped around us as—after years—I got a hug from my mother.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” She whispered, stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry,”

I nodded into her shoulder, letting all of my bottled-up tears come out. All of the stresses from war and the nightmares that plagued me at night—my mother was still there to hold me tight. It didn’t matter that I was still hurting from wounds she inflicted, to know she was there, willing to hold me tight, and call me hers was enough.

“Y/n, are you—” Draco came out and paused. I pulled away from my mother and looked at him. He gave me a soft smile and nodded, heading back into the house.

“Is he upset with me?” My mother asked. I laughed hopelessly.

“I don’t know,” I said, wiping away my tears.

“Are you?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” My voice softened. “There’s so much right now… so much to sort through…”

“There is.” She didn’t deny it, and maybe it was comforting that someone outside of my peers acknowledged that I had been through a lot, and in turn that had caused a lot of heavy burdens on my heart and soul.

My gaze drifted back to hers.

“Do you wanna come in?” I asked.

She shook her head. “That’s not what you want, nor need,” Reaching our she placed per hand on my arm, soothing me before I could argue. “I’ll be around if you need me, but until then, the house is for you—it always has been. Build a life,” She smiled and looked through the window—probably at where Draco was inevitably spying on us. “You’ve found a good one,”

A smile touched my lips.

“Thanks mum,”

My mother inhaled sharply and nodded. “I’ll be off then,” Turning to go down the porch stairs, she paused. “He would be so proud of you,”

Tears burned my eyes again, as I wrapped my arms around her, needing her to hold me just once more before I could let her go. Because in her arms was also the love of my father that was taken from me too soon by this war. A war that I saw an end to. And maybe in that moment, the war within me ended too. I wasn’t the daughter of a Death Eater and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I was the daughter of Walt and Elizabeth. And that was enough

“Goodbye my love,” My mother said softly. “I’ll always be around.”

“Bye mum,” I smiled as she wiped away my tears. “I love you,”

“I love you too sweetheart,”

I waved goodbye, and with a spell, she was gone. I turned to go inside. The door clicked softly behind me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Professor McGonagall?” My brows pulled together. “Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

“This is a summons for you,” She held out a parchment, the usual stern look on her face was replaced with pity.

I took the parchment and opened it, scanning the delicate print. My heart sank.

“This is… this—“ I gaped.

“I’m afraid so,” McGonagall sighed. “There was nothing I could do,”

“Draco?” I called into the house. He was beside me in a moment. I handed him the parchment. “This is serious?” She nodded again.

“I’m sorry my dear,”

“A court summons? They’re putting her in trial!?” Draco demanded.

“Kingsley is very set on it. And he is the new Minister,”

“I saved the school! I helped defeat the Dark Lord! I—really!?” Tears pricked my eyes.

“There’s got to be some mistake,” Draco insisted. “She’s not a Death Eater, she doesn’t even have the mark!”

“I’m sure that the ministry will see that, but I’m afraid that I cannot do anything about the summons,”

I scrubbed my face and sighed. “Thank you Professor. Can I invite you in for some tea?”

“That’s very kind dear, but I’m afraid I must be on my way,” She bowed slightly then disaperated from the porch.

I stood there a while, lost in my thoughts. Draco gave me a gentle squeeze and kissed the crown of my head before disappearing inside. My feet took me off the wood of the porch and into the softness of the grass. I sank to the ground beside a fence post. The sun began to set. My eyes watched the horizon. Millions of thoughts swirled around my mind with no discernible direction.

Was there even a case for me to be innocent? Is this what everything I had worked for come to? To be seen as a criminal for holding a crumbling cause together?

____________________

“Where is she?” Abby asked, helping Pansy through the fireplace.

“Out front, watching the sunset,” Draco sighed, opening the front door. “She’s been out there a while,”

“Can’t imagine why,” Pansy muttered. “They’re seriously putting her on trial?”

“Yep,” Draco sighed. “All this time I thought I’d be the one, and yet…”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Abby kissed Pansy’s cheek. “You guys get to work,”

“Thank you, both,” Relief flooded Draco’s voice.

Abby snagged an old afghan off the back of the armchair and went out through the small meadow. She draped the blanket around your shoulders and sat beside you in the grass. You laid your head on her shoulder. She could see the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

“How—how could they do this?” Your weak voice held deep betrayal.

“I don’t know,” Abby answered honestly, taking your hand into hers. “But we’re not going to let them get away with it.”

“I don’t—I can’t defend myself in court—I,” You dissolved into tears. “Haven’t I done enough?”

“More than enough,” Abby affirmed. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna work it out—you’ll see,”

“How?” You asked.

“Well, you’ve gathered quite a few allies who owe you once or twice,” Abby pointed out. “And others who just love you anyway. Draco and Pansy are working on it now,”

“Wha—what?”

“We’re gonna build your case,” Abby promised. “And get you acquitted.”

“They’re…” A sad laugh left your lips. You laid back on the grass. Abby knew you were searching for the first stars in twilight.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Abby smiled at you. “Just rest,”

The days past and my trial date approached like a storm on the horizon—but whether it was just rain or a hurricane, I couldn’t tell. Draco assured me that it would all be okay—he tried to tell me about everything done to build my case, but I wasn’t interested. Grateful, thoroughly, but I knew that if I learned anything about it, I would pick it up myself and try to fix it and my weary heart couldn’t handle that and keep beating like it was supposed to.

So, I dressed smartly and took Draco’s hand before we took the Floo to the Ministry. I kept my head low, and tears at bay.

Though Draco, Abby and Pansy accompanied me into the court room, I had to sit alone for the trial. The distance was drowning. I sat in the hard wooden chair, facing malice and prejudices. Kingsley looked almost predatory, as if he could pin the entire war on my shoulders, casting the blame on me.

I flinched as the charges were read against me. The list of dead was longer than I thought. I didn’t dwell on the days of the Battle of Hogwarts, nor the events that occurred. They haunted me in my dreams, make no mistake, but what was real and what was a nightmare I lost the ability to discern.

Was that much blood really on my hands?

My faith in myself began to waver. Maybe I did deserve to be locked up. A few years in Azkaban with dementors sucking my life force might make me forget what I had done.

Surprise flickered on my face as I saw Remus Lupin stand to my defense as an attorney. It was the first time that I had actually taken note of who was in the room. There had to be at least thirty people all gathered behind Draco and Pansy that I could see—more filed out the door in the back. All faces of those I loved, I had fought beside, I had grown up with.

The static in my ears tuned in and out of Lupin and Kingsley conversing. It wasn’t until their voices raised to shouting that the static was drowned out. My eyes flickered up from he thread in my hands.

“She cast unforgivables! She killed! She’s dangerous!”

“Death Eaters who were threatening our lives! The lives of wizard kind everywhere! She stopped a genocide!” Remus shouted back, obviously frustrated. “She showed remarkable strength and courage in a time of great darkness, and you will not diminish that.”

“They are unforgivables! We have laws for a reason!”

“If I may,” McGonagall stood and the entire room quieted. “That list of names that you read was a long list of Death Eaters who have either escaped from Azkaban, or are known Death Eaters and have killed before. Miss Y/n had very hard decisions to make. The ministry found itself incompetent for lack of a better word. She, along with her friends, engineered an army to face the Dark Lord. Over the years what she went through has turned her into who she is today. She fought along side the other heroes who stand before you. She will be counted among them. You would not punish an Auror for the same thing and you will not punish her.”

“But—” Kingsley was red in the face.

“If you put her in jail, you put the rest of the rebellion too,” The voice that piped up from the crowd surprised me. It was Harry. He stood and all eyes went to him. “Without her, I never would have been able to defeat Voldemort. Dozens more would be dead. You send her to Azkaban… then you’ll send me too,” A hushed gasp filled the room. A small one escaped my own lips.

“Mr. Potter,” Kingsley tried to regain control of the room.

“And me,” Abby spoke up.

“And me,” Neville stood.

Soon everyone around me was standing on my behalf. Pansy, Luna, Ginny, all of the Weasleys actually, Ernie, Hannah, Emme, Blaise, Draco, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fleur, Tonks, Remus, McGonagall, Moody, Sprout, Flitwick, and others I couldn’t see in the vast room. Kingsley faltered at the large defense behind me.

“You send her then you send each one of us,” Harry spoke clearly. “I’m your stupid chosen one, even if she did something wrong, don’t I have clearance to pardon her or something?”

A smile crossed my face. Intense silence stretched on consuming time and space until it was suffocating me.

“Very well,” Kingsley sank back into his chair. “Y/n you have been cleared of all charges and sentencing. You are free to go,”

Relief flooded through me as the room erupted in cheers. I met Draco’s eyes and he was smiling with pride. I collapsed back into that wooden chair in tears. There was a swarm of people around me, all making sure that I was alright, but they all parted for Draco to reach me.

“Love?” He asked softly, kneeling before me. “I’m here,” He pulled me into his arms and we shared the embrace of lovers. As I exhaled, the weight of the world fell to the floor.

I was free.

I was acquitted.

Now, I just had to find my innocence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Draco?” It was a crisp autumn morning. He looked up from the newspaper. “I’ve been thinking,”

He smiled and set down the paper, giving me his full attention. I almost wished he didn’t.

“I… I know it’s been a long road here… and since we’ve met it’s kinda been hell.” A sad laugh left my lips. “There’s a whole world out there Draco,” My eyes flickered to the willow growing outside the kitchen window.

“Yeah?” He prompted softly.

“Don’t you want to go see it? Be young and reckless and not have to feel like—like you’re running an entire school?” I gestured.

“I do,” He confessed softly. “We are still young Y/n, we have a long life ahead of us,”

“…You still want it with me?” I felt as if the oxygen was being vacuumed from my lungs. “We were just kids when we met Draco. We went through a war together—and now it’s over. The war. You don’t have to stay here,” This house was just as haunted as I was.

“What—where is this coming from?” Draco stood, rounding the small breakfast table. “I want to be with you. I want to share my life with you,” He took my hands into his. “So, let’s go travel the world together—learn who we are outside of the war.”

Hope sparked in my chest. “Really?”

He laughed softly. “Oh my darling, you are one of my best friends, I’ll go anywhere with you,” His words lured me to melt into his warm embrace. We sat on the kitchen floor. He stroked my hair softly.

“Just for a while,” I mumbled. “There’s so much we haven’t seen,”

“I know,” The smile was evident in his voice. “And it’s going to be incredible—and we’re going to learn how to heal along the way,” I nodded into his shoulder.

“I was thinking about maybe even living muggle for a little bit,” The confession was a weight from my shoulders. “I need space.”

“Okay,” His soft agreeable caught me off guard. “I think it would be good for both of us actually. And maybe even fun,”

I laughed softly as tears formed in my eyes. Leaning against him I watched the morning sun move across the wooden floor.

“I love you,” I whispered softly. “And if you… if I’m not…”

“Hush,” it was a soft reprimand. “I think you’re right. We need time away from it all. To find who we are away from it all,”

I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder.

“We’ll come back,” I promised.

“I know we will,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Knowing you, you’ll want to come back and help build a better system,”

My cheeks flushed red. I hadn’t told anyone about my ideas to make Hogwarts better—to make the Ministry better, hell to even make Azkaban better. It was time for things to change. I smiled to myself. Maybe I was more rebellious than I thought.

And yet, Draco knew—he knew all the little plans in my head that were hidden just for me. Being known felt like belonging—and I belonged with him.

**********************************

Traveling with Draco would always be saved in my memories until I died, and when it started to slip, it would be saved into a pensieve. I wouldn’t forget.

We bought a muggle car and drove it until it felt right to stop. It wasn’t the famous places where we found ourselves, rather it was the forgotten places where we felt most at home. Where I could stand on a cliff edge and just scream and laugh and no one was around to hear me. Where Draco and I would sit at the edge of a river and send down leaves that held our biggest regrets, our losses, and our fears, learning to let go. Where we would sit in cafes and draw what we saw around us and enjoy pastries and tea. Where we could dance in the middle of a crowded room with other couples who didn’t know us from Adam.

But that is a story for another time.

For now, I’m sure you have a burning question that you’ve been waiting for me to answer.

And yes.

Draco did take me to go and see Phantom of the Opera in Paris like he promised.

Oh, and we got married.

But, again, that is a story for another time.

There is one last person I want you to meet before I close.

**********************************

My heart caught in my throat.

“Draco?” I squeaked out, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Draco!”

“What? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He was frantic, looking for danger.

“I’m… pregnant,” I whispered, looking at him in wonder. “Draco… I’m—“

“Holy harpies,”

Realization flickered across his face as it rose into an elated expression of joy. A victorious laugh as he scooped me up and twirled me around our lavish bathroom, in our muggle flat in the suburbs of London. His joy was contagious as I giggled in his arms, holding onto him. He set me down, stroking my face softly. Then he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Draco must have seen some fear linger in my stare. Some uncertainty that was well justified.

“The war is over,” Draco reassured drawing me back into his arms. “They’ll be safe. We’ll make sure of it,”

I nodded, curling my fingers into his sweater, my smile returning.

“I’m gonna be a mum,” I laughed.

“And you’re going to be absolutely brilliant.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“And you’re gonna be a great dad,” Tears pricked my eyes. “God, I don’t know the first thing about being a parent,” A nervous giggle left my lips.

“We’ll learn and figure it out,” He stroked my cheek softly, stealing another kiss.

A thousand parenting books, a baby shower, and a few doctors appointments later, Draco and I were curled up on the couch in our flat as the fire crackled in the hearth.

We had yet to settle on a name—to be fair we narrowed it down a lot, but with every new suggestion came a new round of anxiety that it wouldn’t be just right. It left me up at all hours thinking of it; so much so that Draco had to find a pregnancy safe sleeping potion so I could get proper rest.

“Elizabeth?” Draco mused, after my mother. I pursed my lips. It had been a suggestion that circled around.

“I’d like it as a middle name,” I decided, the thought had been mulling over in my mind.

“Okay done,” He smiled, reaching over to stroke my stomach before resuming his massage of my sore feet.

“Still need a first name.” I pondered, leaning my head against the back of the couch. “Narcissa?”

Draco snorted. “I’m not calling our daughter by my mothers name,”

My heart fluttered when he said our daughter.

“Well we need something,”

“How about Lucy?” That was a new suggestion: one not voiced by either of us.

“If that’s some way to get me to name her after your father I swear to Merlin—“

Draco burst out laughing shaking his head.

“Godric, no. Ugh,” he chuckled. “No, love, Lucy as in the first one to find Narnia. Ya know, that book you read to me all those years ago. The current theme of our nursery?”

“Oh,” my eyes widened at the thought, my heart softening. “Lucy,” I looked down, caressing my stomach when I felt something odd. Frowning I pressed my palm over the area. Draco caught my confusion and grew very concerned.

“What? Is she alright? What wrong?”

“Nothing,” I grinned. “She’s kicking—I think she likes her name,” I reached out for his hand and placed it in the same spot where mine resided as I felt her kick again.

“Hello little Lucy,” Draco whispered softly. “I can’t wait to meet you,”

Tears pricked my eyes as I watched him talk to her softly. And like every night, Draco got up and made me my tea that had Sleeping Draught in it—which he brewed specifically for me. It reminded me of our school days when he would spend class time brewing me anti-anxiety potions. It warmed my heart that his habit didn’t wane even with the years past.

That night my eyes fluttered open. I woke in the night, barely awake and ready to fall asleep again when I heard a soft voice. At first I thought Draco was trying to speak to me but I quickly realized that he was talking to someone else.

“You’re going to be one of the greatest wizards to ever walk the earth,” he murmured softly. “You’ll be kind and smart like your mother. You’re going to love her so much. We already love you so much.”

I let my eyes drift closed as a smile touched my lips. I resisted the urge to reach out and take Draco’s hand, in fear that he might become bashful about the situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A small bundle of warmth rested on my chest, peacefully sleeping. My hand rose and cradled the small thing, tears pricking my eyes. My other hand was still clinging to Draco’s.

Lucy Elizabeth Malfoy.

There were tears in Draco’s eyes as he reached out and with the softest touch caressed her tiny head.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured. “You did so well,”

Exhausted, I let my eyes close, knowing that all was right with the world. Lucy would grow up in a world free from the threat of Voldemort and Draco would be by my side to protect her. We had already bled and fought and now we would make this new world we fought for, right for her.

A new legacy.

A new hope.

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two by two

Beautifully Beastly

@coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18@whygz@crazywritingbug @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog@savingdraco @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen@hxneybgb @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-johnston

@jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus@tceedlmao @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @dragonsandbread @the-queen-of-hell-things @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora

#draco malfoy #harry potter #slytherin #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x you #draco x #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #slytherin x hufflepuff #hufflepuff #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter blog

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caelestisregina · 8 months

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Starter for @iustusrex takes place during lww

The young queen had taken on the task that both the Beavers had advised against but once word of humans other than her had entered Narnia got to Jadis and her army, war would surely ensue. She became a double agent for Aslan, working in the lie that the Narnians weren't treating her the way she should be treated, since becoming queen. Not heeding her warnings when it came to changes in the night sky. Which in the beginning, she and Orieus didn't always see head to head. So there had been some truth.

Diane tilted her head when she saw the boy get tossed into the cell next to her. The girl's hair disheveled and out of the plait from earlier that day when everything changed for her. Maugrim had sniffed her out and called her bluff. Which landed in a slap from Jadis herself, her ring leaving a cut on her lower lip. She was shivering, the coat she was given had been taken away as part of her punishment.

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the-nettle-knight · 3 months

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Prince Caspian rewatch notes:

-Caspian has a sun on his chemise and Ray like embroidery, which I feel like is a parallel to Peter and a symbol of Caspian's destiny to take on Peter's mantle

- Also a possible reference to Aslan, perhaps it's Dr Cornelius' influence or a suggestion that there might be more part Narnian (or Archen) servants in Miraz's castle

-Caspian's naivety about Miraz's intentions may have been more believable if Ben Barnes wasn't in his mid 20s

-When Trumpkin first sees Caspian he's very obviously got a rubber knife

-Susan is reading a copy of the Picture Post that was published on December 9th 1939 featuring a photo of a girl in the Land Army, so as this was probably 1941 this is an old issue

-This definitely shows her practical and logical nature and might suggest that her role as Queen in Narnia may have focused on the practical elements of farming, land management, supplying their armies etc

- There are at least four schools shown in the Underground scene, St Finbars, Hendon House, a boy's school with a red uniform and a possibly mixed sex school with a grey uniform

-St Finbars' crest is a varient on the Tudor Rose - a lot of the Narnian leather belts/straps have rose motifs

-Hendon house has a cross with three stars over it, which also feels very Narnian and looks quite knightly

-Cair Paravel's ruins look to be in pretty good shape for being 1000s of years old. In our world, when a castle is abandoned, people tend to repurpose the stones and timbers. However, due to the Telmarines' superstition they probably left it completely alone

-There's a big wild rose bush covering the ruins, adding to the rose motif

-Susan is the only one who's throne is partially intact, and she's the only one who survives the series

-On the Telmarine Lord's thrones there is a sigil of their mask-helmet over a horizontal spear with a a personalised image beneath. Miraz has tentacles wrapping around shields, probably a nod to their piratical origins

-Lucy's dress sleeves look like an odd length, as if they were 3/4 length sleeves on a taller person

-Peter Dinklige's accent has definitely improved by the time GoT comes round

- The fact that Cornelius is a doctor suggests that there is a university somewhere in the wider Narnian world to award such a title

-I really like the fact that Edmund and Susan basically have their heads right next to each other

-The trees that move first for Lucy are silver birches. They're one of the last trees to loose their leaves in the winter and they start to bud relatively early

#they speak #narnia #the chronicals of narnia #prince caspian

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theroyalsims · 4 months

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BREAKING: NOT YOUR ORDINARY BUILDER - GUS IS A SELF-MADE MAN AND ANYA’S ELUSIVE FIRST LOVE

There’s more to him than meets the eye! More details of Anya’s latest love have emerged and it looks like he’s not just a regular builder, contrary to what was earlier reported.

“Gus” is actually Baris Gustavo Aslan, a licensed Engineer and owner of Aslan Builders, a construction company operating in Rennaux, Tartosa, and Champs les Sims. He graduated from the Université Royale de Rennaux with a degree in Civil Engineering. He also holds a Masters in Engineering from the same university. If that university sounds familiar, it’s because it happens to be the very same school that The Crown Princess attended. While they were, indeed, schoolmates, the pair reportedly first met as children. Gus also served in the Rennaux Army (Rennaux has mandatory military service), and prior to moving permanently to Tartosa, was a volunteer firefighter in his neighbourhood's fire brigade.

(Above: Anya's new -old- beau is her first love and childhood sweetheart, engineer Gus Aslan.)

Gus is the eldest child of Lucia, a native of Tartosa, and Emir Aslan, who emigrated from Ekhkare, a country located north of Al-Simhara. He has two younger sisters, Dilara and Gül. His dad was a train conductor, while his mum worked at the Rennaux Palace gift shop as the store manager. It is there that Gus reportedly first met Crown Princess Anya. Anya, along with her siblings Eleanore and Alistair, used to "work" at the gift shop during their summer vacations in Rennaux. A source reveals:

"They first met as children. The Queen's oldest kids, Anya, Eleanore, and Alistair, used to 'work' at the gift shop where they would be paid in cakes and cookies. It was something they looked forward to during their summer trips to Rennaux. That's when Gus and Anya first met. They were maybe, seven, eight years old? At that time, the Aslans were living in Rennaux. Gus' mum was the shop manager.

Gus and Anya became quick friends, and their friendship lasted throughout their teens. They secretly started 'officially' dating right before they both entered uni. I think Gus was a major factor why Anya chose to study in Rennaux. However, they broke up shortly before graduating from uni."

(Above: Gus and Anya were spotted having a lunch date in Rennaux over the weekend. Rennaux has become their "middle ground" as of late, meeting halfway to make time for each other despite their very busy schedules.)

Although it was common knowledge that Anya was seeing someone when she was studying in Rennaux, not much was known about the Crown Princess' elusive "first love." The radio silence was attributed to rumours of an NDA and threats from both the Rennaux and Brindleton royal families. Further, Anya's godfather, the Duke of Fjord, owns television and radio networks, as well as major publications in Rennaux - making it completely possible to bury any news about young Anya's relationship.

Why Anya's past with Gus was kept hidden is unsure. However, what's certain is the fact that they're giving their relationship another go. The two reportedly rekindled their romance last year when Anya traveled to Tartosa to purchase a villa. The source further reveals:

"Anya had her eyes set on this beautiful villa, so Anya made a few early trips to Tartosa to see the place. She loved it, but it needed a bit of work. When she returned during her hiatus, she was introduced to a 'contractor' who specialised in restoring historic houses. Of course, that contractor turned out to be Gus.

These two were inevitable. They were like two magnets drawn to each other. I'm convinced Anya tried to fight it because I genuinely think that Gus was her biggest heartbreak - him being her literal first love and all. Gus, too, was a bit apprehensive because he's had his heart broken before. But things just clicked into place. They started talking and hanging out again. Anya extended her stay and they spent more time with each other. When they were apart, they stayed in constant touch via video calls and text. Gus flew in a few days before Winterfest. Anya made stealthy trips to Tartosa during the holidays. By then, they both knew that they wanted to be with each other."

(Above: These two only have eyes for each other! Anya loves being in Rennaux because unlike in Brindleton, she can go around town -with bodyguard in tow, of course- without making too much of a fuss.)

As for Gus being a "measly" builder, the source further spills:

"To begin with, there's nothing 'measly' about the job. Being a builder is honest and decent work, and Gus knows that - that's why he's not at all afraid to be hands-on with his projects. He could very well just sit in a comfy chair, wear a tie, and boss his people around, but having come from very humble beginnings, he knows the value of hard work. He's well-loved by his people and he treats everyone as his equals. He's not Mr. Aslan. With his team, he's simply 'Gus.' But don't let the tattered hat and muddy boots fool you. He's very well-off. He's a self-made millionaire who lives very comfortably - he just doesn't like to show-off."

The case of Anya's Mystery Man is officially solved! A second chance love - who'd have thought? You know what they say - love is sweeter the second time around. Hopefully that saying rings true to Anya and Gus! And can we just say, these two make a very beautiful couple! Here's hoping we see more of our new favourite lovebirds soon!

#ts4 #theroyalsims #ts4 simblr #simblr #ts4 royals #ts4 royal #ts4 royal family #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal story #ts4 royal legacy #mystory #anya #gus

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darkcrowprincess · 5 months

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Narnia thoughts: why aren't there more Prince Caspian au fics? I have so many ideas.

Tons of Casmund aus

Why aren't there aus where the Pevensies parents accidentally end up in Narnia? I know lore states only children. But screw that this is fiction and I want Pevensie Parents shenanigans of them ending up in Narnia with their children and them seeing their kids weild swords and command armies and being completely our of their depth and having to rely on their kids in an unfamiliar place.

Pevensie siblings shenanigans fics

More casmund in general.

Eustace and Pevensie siblings shenanigans.

Casmund wedding.

Casmund with Caspian in the real world.

Jadis coming back in Prince Caspian and taking Edmund prisoner.

Jadis coming back in Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

Jadis coming back and being in the real world. Threatens the Pevensie parents.

Narnia coming to the real world and the Pevensie siblings having to explain to the parents.

Just in general more fics about the parents.

Edmund and Lucy shenanigans fics.

Edmund and Peter shenanigans fics

Edmund and Susan shenanigans fics(yes Edmund is my favorite male character)

Aslan ending up in the real world and the kids having having hide him from their parents.

Pevensie and Aslan shenanigans

Just more Pevensie and Aslan love. Ok that lion loves the Pevensie and there needs to be more fics with them(yes I heard about the last battle but I'm ignoring that)

Just more love for Aslan in general. I see that lion differentdifferently and I want him to have more love(though I never read the books so who knows)

Caspian meeting the Pevensie parents

Edmund coming out as gay to his parents and his siblings standing by him no matter what, laws and British proprietary be dammed.

Casmund outlander au.

Casmund pirate au

Casmund little mermaid au

Casmund and the nutcracker au.

Just more Casmund in general.

Narnia and kingdom hearts crossover. Like less hogwarts crossovers and more kingdom hearts.

#my thoughts #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #disney #narnia au #casmund #casmund au #pevensie siblings #caspian x

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theseekeroftruth · 8 months

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Then with a roar that shook all Narnia from the western lamp-post to the shores of the eastern sea the great beast flung himself upon the White Witch. Lucy saw her face lifted towards him for one second with an expression of terror and amazement. Then Lion and Witch had rolled over together but with the Witch underneath; and at the same moment all war-like creatures whom Aslan had led from the Witch's house rushed madly on the enemy lines, dwarfs with their battleaxes, dogs with teeth, the Giant with his club (and his feet also crushed dozens of the foe), unicorns with their horns, centaurs with swords and hoofs. And Peter's tired army cheered, and the newcomers roared, and the enemy squealed and gibbered till the wood re-echoed with the din of that onset.

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lucy-pevensies · 1 year

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#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #lww #polls #.txt #q

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fallingskiesandrisingseas · 1 year

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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

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narcissisticmf · 2 years

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just take a break | peter pevensie x fem!reader

description: peter utilizes all his time to prepare for the battle against miraz and his army, but y/n just wants to spend some time with him.

trigger warnings: sexual content, some angst, oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of violence, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18.

word count: 1.6k

The skies of Narnia were slightly grey, glooming over Aslan's How. It was warm, but not too warm; nearing nightfall. You were comfortable as you sat in your shared tent with Peter, resting in bed for a few hours. You flipped through the pages in an old book, skimming over the words with your index finger.

Peter was standing over a small table in the corner of the room, dotting things on the map of Narnia. You listened to the sound of the quill pen engraving on the map was peaceful. A few candles were lit, making the room dim.

Releasing a soft breath, you closed your book and placed it onto the bedside table, slowly sitting against the edge of the mattress. You pushed yourself off the bed and walked towards Peter, examining the way his back muscles moved with his writing.

"You've been doing this for hours, Peter," You walked up behind him and snuck your arms around his torso. You chin rested against his shoulder as you looked over the map. He released a gentle snicker and kept his gaze on the map, adding more notes and sigils upon it.

"I'm King, darling," Peter replied, "If I don't do it, nobody will."

You slowly pulled yourself from behind him and stood at his side, gently brushing his hair from his eyes, "The High King of Narnia deserves a break."

"I have to finish this, Y/N," Peter looked towards you with a soft gaze.

"Peter, you're weary," You caressed his cheek, softly grazing your thumb beneath his eyes. Dark circles formed above his cheeks, under his deeply blue eyes. "If you're planning to fight Miraz and his army, you need to relax for a while," You brought your hand down, gently resting it against his chest.

Peter was distracted now, more focused on you than his battle plan. His lips parted as he placed the quill pen down, turning to face you with an intimidating gaze.

"Have you eaten today?" You questioned in a whisper.

Peter didn't respond and simply cupped your face with his hands and kissed you deeply. You fluttered your eyes closed and took in the sensual moment, gently gripping his wrists as he dragged his tongue along your bottom lip asking permission for entrance.

You released a gentle whine and parted your lips as a way to give him the ability to mold his lips with yours deeper than before. His lips moved in perfect sync with your own, as if Aslan himself crafted the two of you specifically for one another.

"Peter.." You whimpered and felt him pull back, smiling bashfully as his cheeks reddened. "Please don't start something you can't finish." The distance between the two of you ceased to exist as his chest was pressed against yours.

"Who's to say I can't?" Peter's lips curved into a smirk. You smiled gently and released a sweet laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he dipped his head down to mold his lips against your own. It was as if time was stopping for just the two of you.

He lifted you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he led the two of you to the bed. You smiled into his kiss as he laid you down upon the soft mattress. He climbed into the bed and situated himself so that he'd comfortably lay down between your spread legs. Your back rested against the pillows as you cupped his face, letting your tongue battle with his for a few moments.

You felt him pull back as he begun to remove his blouse, overhead. You admired his chest with your dilated pupils. He begun to undo his belt, tossing it to the ground. You watched him remove each article of clothing with pure admiration. He'd kicked off his pants slowly, tossing them to the floor. You whimpered as you felt your arousal thicken between your legs as he removed his undergarments. His private hardened against his lower stomach, making you subconsciously move your tongue across your bottom lip to moisten the pink flesh.

"It's your turn, my lady," Peter smiled and leaned down to press his lips to yours quickly. You whined when he pulled back as you removed your dress, over your head. You tossed it onto the ground and let Peter assist in undoing your bra. His warm hands moved to your back as he unclasped the bralette, throwing it over his back into the growing pile of clothes.

You whined and felt the cool air hit your hardening nipples as you laid back against the pillows. You watched as Peter attached his wet lips to your neck, pressing warm kisses to your flesh. You breathed shakily and arched your back as he smiled against your skin. He moved his lips down between your breasts, over your stomach and across your hips. He used his teeth to gently gnaw at your underwear. You curled your toes and felt him bite down onto the waistline of them, pulling them down your legs with his teeth.

"Peter," You whispered through a moan, arching your back as he yanked them off, tossing them to the ground. You released a shaky breath as you looked down to notice him press his lips against your thighs, inching closer and closer towards your quivering core. He glanced up to you with a devilish, cocky glint in his eyes as his lips gently kissed the tip of your heat. You reached down to play with his hair as you subconsciously spread your legs a bit wider.

Your private glistened with slick arousal, causing a wet and sticky mess between your thighs. Peter wasted no more time and attached his lips to your core, using his tongue to slip between your folds. You arched your back and released an elongated moan, letting your fingers slip through his hair, gently tugging at the roots.

"Quiet, love," Peter warned against your core, enjoying the savory taste. You whined, pressing your lips together as a way to muffle the unholy noise from your throat. You curled your toes and felt Peter move his hands up to toy with your breasts. You whimpered and closed your eyes, leaning your head back to take in the beautiful, erotic feelings.

You sucked in a breath and felt Peter pull back, causing a cool temperature to overtake your core. You watched as he moved up closer to you, pressing his lips to yours. You wrapped you arms around his shoulders and felt ecstasy run through your veins. Your heartbeat quickened in pace as Peter gently grazed the tip of his private against your center. You whimpered into his mouth and felt your eyes tear at the wondrous feeling.

"Ready, love?" Peter mumbled into your mouth. You mumbled a quick 'yes' into the kiss and felt him sink in between your core. You released a moan into his kiss and slowly pulled back, feeling tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Peter released a breath and kissed your cheek, making an attempt to kiss away the tears. You felt him buck his hips inside you, making you release a quiet whimper. He swiftly motioned his hips in and out of you, creating a beautiful string of moans between your lips that sounded like a melody from an old song.

"You're doing so good, my lady," Peter whispered and continued motioning his hips back and forth, admiring how relaxed you felt against his shaft. You closed your eyes as admired the feeling as Peter rested his forehead against yours.

There was an immense amount of warmth that overwhelmed you as the tension in your stomach began to unravel. Peter looked into your eyes warmly and kissed the corner of your lips.

"You close, love?" He whispered shakily.

You nodded rapidly, unable to respond with words as Peter sucked in a breath and continued his motions in the same manner as he had been, admiring how good he was making you feel.

You whined softly and parted your lips, "I'm coming now, Peter.." You released a gentle moan and curled your tones as you felt your body release the tension that was being held for so long. You felt the sweat build along your neck as you arched your back and gripped onto Peter's rests as his hands were propping him up against the mattress.

"Sweetheart.." Peter released a moan as he felt you come undone and wasted no time in gently pulling out to release his climax against your stomach. You released a shaky breath and watched as he sighed gently.

You released a gentle laugh and watched as Peter smiled and reached for a towel along the bedside table. He took the soft cloth and gently wiped his release off of your stomach.

"Stay with me for a while, Peter," You whispered gently.

He smiled gently and tossed the towel against the ground, into the pile of clothes the two of you left and wrapped his arms around your naked body. You laughed softly and pulled the sheets over both you and Peter. You wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your head against his chest, listening to his soft heartbeat.

"Thank you," You whispered gently and pressed your lips against his neck.

"Don't thank me for that," Peter gently caressed your cheek, lifting your chin so that you'd look up to him. "You were the one who distracted me, and that.. I thank you for," He smiled softly. Your lips formed a soft grin as you softly kissed his cheek, admiring how warm the two of you felt beneath the sheets.

a/n: hi, my nasty little cuties!! i've been watching narnia again a lot recently and i love it so much. i thought about this mainly due to how peter is very strict with himself and the way he leads people, so i definitely think this would happen between him and y/n, you guys!!! so cute ;P anyway, thank you so much for reading, my dears! be safe and treat people with kindness. — angelina.

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promptthebear · 1 year

Text

Kissmas Day 2

Prompt: Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

A/N: Hey, so this is finally here. Clearly it ran away with me. Maybe someday I'll be able to write a fic without over a thousand words of worldbuilding but clearly this isn't it. Regardless, enjoy!

The invitation arrived the first week of spring, a crimson dyed scroll with fine golden inlay and marked with Aslan’s own seal.

“To all eligible children in this noble house,” it decreed “You have been cordially invited to celebrate the 23rd birthday of High King Peter the Magnificent. Those wishing to attend must make their intentions known by no later than the third moon of spring, so appropriate accommodations can be made for the masquerade feast and tourney to follow. Tribute by way of gifts is not mandatory but highly encouraged. Long live King Peter, and long live Aslan!”

You hooted with laughter as you read it, before passing the notice over to your mother and sister. The messenger eagle who brought it, one of the many talking beasts in King Peter’s command, looked on disapprovingly.

“He’s got some nerve, sending this after he’s spent the better part of his kinghood with Ettismoor under his boot.” You said, not even bothering to hide your disdain “As though a party is going to make that all just disappear”

You expected your family’s thoughts on the matter to be alike to your own, especially your mother given she’d lost a husband, two sons and twice as many nephews against Peter’s armies. That made it all the more shocking, however, when she picked up a quill and parchment to pen her own missive rather than chuck the scroll into the fire.

“You can’t be serious” you pleaded, looking over at your sister for support “Mother. Please. Don’t make us go.”

The sound of a quill scratching against paper was all that was offered by way of reply. You wanted to scream, to shatter the almost silence and startle your mother back into seeing sense. Surely, this was a ruse of some sort? She wasn’t writing a cordial reply, instead she was telling this so called king where he could shove his sword and good intentions, right? The alternative wasn’t even worth considering.

Seconds passed in agony as your mother continued to write. You looked over to your sister once again, silently imploring her to do something, anything. Your sister, two years your junior and much more placid in nature, only shrugged. With a frustrated sigh, you turned away and stared into the fire, sulking.

Finally, after what felt like hours, your mother rose from her chair and walked over to the windowsill where the messenger eagle was waiting. In her hand, you noticed a scroll of plain parchment sealed with the mark of your household in silver wax. You felt your breath leave your lungs, and you clutched at the chair beneath you as your head began to swim.

That was your father’s seal, only used for official communication between noble or royal houses. If your mother had rejected the King, as you had hoped, then she wouldn’t have bothered. But a formal seal meant a formal letter, which all but confirmed the worst. You were going.

“Mother” you sounded desperate, even to your own ears, yet your mother took no noticed.

You watched as your mother placed the scroll in the eagle's satchel, along with some sweetbreads from a nearby platter that she wrapped in linen napkins.

“For the journey” she said, giving your guest a small nod. The eagle nodded in return, before turning back towards the window and spreading its wings. With a few strong flaps, the creature was gone, disappearing into the snowy gloom beyond. It had said little while it was here, but the lack of its presence was felt all the more strongly in the chilly stillness that remained.

“Dearest” your mother said, finally acknowledging you as she took a seat in the chair across from your own “Please. Try to understand.”

It was your turn to be silent, refusing to even look your mother in the eye. Hurt bubbled in your chest, but you tried to shove it back, choosing instead to nurse your growing rage. If you dwelled on your sadness, even for a minute. you would break, you knew. You would reach for your mother, and cry against her breast like you had done as a child. Anger was what you needed now, hot, glowing ire you could build into thick walls against your mother and the rest of the world. No matter what happened, you would not let those walls come down. You would not let her in.

“Dearest” she said again, still trying to placate you “I have no choice. Nothing has gone right for us since your father died. There have been famines, droughts. What little we had in our treasury to begin with has long since been used up. Our people are starving and soon we will be living in a ruin. King Peter is of age to marry. It’s our last chance.”

Your father died because Peter’s soldiers had killed him. Nothing would ever change this fact. And yet your mother, damn her, wanted to sell you off to him like a prize sow at market. Yes, you could see the sense of it, the practicality, but that did not mean you would accept your fate gently either. As far as you were concerned, starving to death in the crumbling walls of the castle you once called home was a much better option to being that murderer's wife.

“Dearest?”

Your mother’s voice was soft, like a prayer, pleading. But they fell on deaf ears. She hadn’t listened to your cries for reason, so why should you listen to hers? You bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, and the salty, metallic sensation shed any pity you may have once given the woman. This would be a fight to the bitter end.

“Fine. You can hate me for it, but you are going to that party, even if I have to drag you the whole way.”

You finally pulled your gaze away from your hands, and brought it to rest on your mother’s face. Her eyes, a near perfect mirror of your own, shone brightly with unshed tears, and her mouth was set in a thin line, much like yours did when that stubborn streak you shared took over. Though you refused to show it outwardly, in your heart you knew. Come hell or high water, you were going.

“Yes, mother.”

***

You arrived at Cair Paravel a little before sunset. As you and your sister disembarked from your carriage, you couldn’t help but be a little awestruck by the legendary castle.

It was a creation of shining marble and stained glass windows, every inch clearly built by generations of master craftspeople. There was nothing like this in Ettismoor. Everything there was made from the same rough, grey stone. Little concern was given about beauty or ornamentation, practicality coming first above all else.

The inside of the castle was just as large and adorned as the exterior. You were lead into the foyer by a faun dressed in red and gold livery, the already small creature made smaller still by the vaulted ceilings above.

After being escorted through a maze of hallways, each lined with plush rugs and detailed tapestries, you were brought to a small spare bedroom where you were left with your sister to ready for the feast.

Given the large number of guests in attendance, and the fact that your mother had long since dismissed most of your own household staff, there weren’t enough servants to go around. This meant you had to play maid for your sister, not that you particularly minded. It was almost like you were children again, giggling and discussing which hair ribbons to use.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, the walls of this strange castle and it’s unfamiliar noises and smells fading away as you focused intently on braiding and pinning back your sister’s dark curls. However, all too soon the task was done, and the beast that was duty lurked not too far off, ready to drag you downstairs come moonrise.

“You’re beautiful” you said, standing back to admire your efforts as your sister studied herself in the mirror. She had donned an embroidered gown of deep green, indicative of the pine forests that grew in abundance across Ettismoor, and a mask of green silk cut in the likeness of leaves so the wearer would resemble a dryad.

In contrast, your gown was a pale silver, almost white, meant to represent the many snow topped mountains of your homeland. Your mask was the only part of your ensemble that could in fact be called elegant, it was adorned with seed pearls stitched after the branched arms of a snowflake and dusted with bits of mica that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. You almost would’ve been pretty in it, though the illusion was spoiled by the scowl that had become a nearly permanent fixture on your face since you’d left Ettismoor.

“Smile, dearest.” your sister said, turning and playfully pinching at your cheek. You swatted her hand away and exaggerated the downturn of your mouth out of spite.

“I’ll smile when we leave. Are you ready for this farce?”

“As I’ll ever be. Though I wish you wouldn’t be like this. We never get to go to parties, the least you could do is try to enjoy it.”

“Mother said I had to go” you replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead and carefully adjust the edges of her mask one final time “She never said I had to like it.”

***

Loathe as you were to admit it, King Peter certainly knew how to throw a party.

The central ballroom had been impeccably decorated for the occasion, with no detail or expense spared. Over a dozen tables had been filled end to end with plates that held everything from more standard feasting fair like roast venison and rich cakes to exotic dishes from Calomore and Archenland that resembled elaborate sculptures rather than food.

Above, the ceiling was alight with candelabras, each one resembling the twining structure of tree roots with a cluster of glowing spheres on the end of each branch. These spheres, most likely magic in origin, were reflected a thousand times over against the faceted panes of the ceiling high windows and polished marble floors, making it appear as though the ballroom had been set upon by a flock of fallen stars.

All this splendour, however, was nothing in comparison to the guests. Never in your life had you seen so many colours, so may different styles of gowns and fabrics. Before you was every manner of creature that walked on two legs or more, magical and mortal alike. It was impossible to tell the real from the false among the masks and swirling dancers. Centaurs cavorted with fae, who quickly shed their wings to squeeze in at an already crowded feasting table. Mermaids were suddenly able to stand on their tails and walk over to greet giants, who shrunk as the stepped down from stilts and joined the rest of the party.

As beautiful as it was, you personally found the whole thing incredibly overwhelming.

You’d lost your sister in an instant, she’d been asked to dance by a young man with dark eyes that flashed mischievously behind a silver mask with a fox’s muzzle and ears. Nearly an hour later, she was still in his arms, oblivious to all else save the music and each other.

You’d watched them for a little while at first, mostly out of concern for your sister’s well-being, but when it eventually became evident that Mr. Fox was going to behave himself, you quickly grew bored. Left to your own devices and knowing not a soul in attendance save for your sister, you did what every lonely party goer does and sought out the nearest flagon of wine.

As expected, the King offered a wide and choice sampling of vintages. It wasn’t long before two glasses turned to three, then four, and you were nursing a fifth when you felt a touch at your elbow. You turned, ready to tell whoever it was to watch themselves with as much venom as polite society would allow when you were caught off guard by the bluest pair of eyes you’d ever seen.

“Good evening, my lady. Could I trouble you for your name and a dance?”

“I’m no one of consequence,” you replied, secretly impressed you’d managed to say all that without slurring “Who has no interest in dancing.”

“Pity. A friendly chat, then?”

You looked at this stranger sidelong, trying to puzzle out what the hell he was playing at. Those four and a half glasses of wine, however, were making puzzling a bit beyond you. That, and those blue eyes, winking at you like glimpses of the ocean from behind his mask.

“I suppose” you finally said, hoping he didn’t notice your staring and think you simple. “I have nothing better to do”

A vestige of your childhood etiquette lessons suddenly surfaced, and you extended your hand for the young man, expecting him to bow over it or perhaps even shake it. Instead, he leaned down, grasped your fingers in his own and brought your knuckles to his lips. You felt the tips of your ears go hot as the curls of his ginger beard tickled at your skin. It was all you could do to keep from jerking away, though that was to hide your embarrassment rather than in disgust.

“So, are you enjoying the party?” he asked, finally releasing your hand.

You studied your new companion closely, taking scarlet tunic marked with the royal crest, brown breeches and the easy grin peeking out from the roaring maw of his golden lion mask. He looked no different than any other of the couple dozen royal bannermen wandering around the ballroom, but your eyes narrowed in suspicion anyway.

“As much as one can.” you replied, your voice chilled as ice wine “Though I don’t particularly care for the host.”

“No? And here I thought King Peter was universally beloved for bringing about an era of peace.”

You made a very unladylike noise, somewhere between a derisive chuckle and a disgusted snort.

“Peace, yes, at the cost of half the men in Ettismoor, my father specifically.”

The mask made his expression hard to read, but you could’ve sworn you saw him go a few shades paler.

“I’m sorry. My father died fighting too.”

You couldn’t help but make a sympathetic noise in the back of your throat. This young man couldn’t be more than what, twenty and three? There was a pretty good chance he had been fighting alongside his father when he died, not a position you envied.

“You have my condolences. Which war was it?”

The question seemed to make him nervous, and he shrugged it off like one would an ill fitting coat.

“I don’t quite remember, I was only thirteen when it happened. Boys aren’t usually paying attention to those sorts of things.”

You were about to protest, Narnian history was one of your favourite areas of study and you had a feeling you’d be able to sniff out a lie with furthering questioning, when the floor suddenly seemed to buckle beneath you. That fifth glass of wine, which you were now coming to deeply regret. slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor with a mighty clang.

“Shit,” you muttered, bringing a hand up to rub at your aching temple and hide your face from curious stares. If it hadn’t been for your companion’s quick reflexes and his grip on your arm holding you up, you might’ve gone down with your goblet.

“Are you alright?” his voice sounded very far away, as though you were under water.

“I’m sorry.” you said, pointedly avoiding his concerned gaze “I must’ve had too much to drink.”

“You should sit down.”

You were guided to a nearby chair, which you all but fell into. While some waitstaff cleared away the mess, the young man grabbed a seat of his own and pulled it up next to yours. He was sitting much closer than was proper for strangers that you knew, but those blue eyes were still so beguiling you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

“Have you had anything to eat recently? Or had a drink of water?”

You gave your head a small shake, too woozy for words. In a flash, the young man disappeared into the crowd, only to return a few moments later with a plate of black bread and a goblet of water in hand.

For the next half hour, you found yourself patient to the strangest nursemaid you’d ever seen. Under his care, you nibbled and sipped, and eventually the dizzy spell seemed to pass. During that time, you struck up a conversation again, discussing everything from your families and court gossip to politics and philosophy.

You were surprised to find that despite him being employed in the King’s army, you shared a lot of similar views. He thought Peter was trying to be a good King, but perhaps too quick to agree to his councillor’s calls for bloodshed. When you suggested reforming the council with members from each of the nation’s major townships and voting on matters of state rather than sorting them out with sword in hand, he responded warmly to the idea.

You weren’t used to having someone’s attention so utterly devoted to you, to have someone hanging off of your every word as though you were the only other person in the room. And loathe as you were to admit it, you were becoming equally entranced by him. The warm baritone of his laugh, the way he smiled so easily, the sandy locks that curled at the edge of his jaw and the way he’d bring his hand to rest on your knee when you said something that pleased him, it all fascinated you. Where you came from, there was little to smile about, and even less reason for laughing. What would it be like? To be with someone who seemed to radiate warmth and joy in every breath?

You were about to reconsider his offer for a dance, when you were interrupted by a young woman in a scarlet dress and gold mask that resembled a bear. Your first instinct was to be jealous, if the two of them wore matching colours that certainly implied a closeness. However, you quickly realized how wrong your assumptions were when she spoke.

“Peter, wherever have you been? We’ve been waiting for ages for you to come and open your presents.”

You felt like you were going to faint again. It wasn’t possible. The mask, the simple clothing, you had just assumed…impossible, surely.

The young man looked between the two of you as though he was a rabbit choosing between a snare and the open maw of a wolf. Apparently, less impossible than you thought.

“I’m sorry.” he said, reaching to grasp your hand “I’ve got to go. I…I’m sure you’ll want an explanation and I promise you’ll have one, but tomorrow. You’re staying for the tourney, aren’t you?”

You nodded, dumbly.

“Good. I’ll be riding in the lists, come watch me joust and we can meet at my pavilion after.”

#Narnia fic #Peter Pevensie x reader #Peter Pevensie #Peter Pevensie fic #Peter Pevensie fluff #william moseley #kissmas 2022

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