#peter pevensie fluff

[lightwing-s]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

pairing: peter pevensie x female! reader

requested: yes. summary: war times are complicated and feelings tent to get overwhelming. when jealousy hits peter, he doesn't know what to do, you don't know what to make of it, and you two end up... "confessing".

word count: 1,3k warnings: light swearing, battle themes, anxiousness

a/n: it was supposed to be a short blurb but i got excited.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests: open⌟

Hordes of narnians worked frantically on preparing weapons, armors and other supplies for the incoming battle against the telmarines. The sounds of metal hitting metal flooding the hollowed tunnels of Aslam’s How, giving Peter the eerie and anxious feeling he was growing unused to while in England, the one he always felt before a fight.

He had been looking for you, wanting to talk about battle plans, contingencies, numbers. Or just talk about anything at all. He needed to clear his mind, especially after what had just happened with Jadis and Caspian, after the failed battle at the telmarine’s castle and the growing tensions of a war. 

Truth is, he didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t think he could win it this time, not in the state their army was, shrunken and weakened. Not without Aslam.

He needed to find you, talk to you. He needed you to tell him it would all be alright and you’d win this battle no matter what, like his mother did to soothe him down. Like you once used to back in your first time in Narnia.

“Have you seen Lady Yn?” He interrupted a faun’s work to question about your whereabouts, not managing to find you anywhere.

“I believe I saw her with Prince Caspian, your majesty.” the faun replied after standing from a bow.

With Caspian. Yet again.

You’d seemed to spend an awful amount of time with him lately, something Peter hadn’t imagined would piss him off so greatly as it did. Every time he’d come looking for you, or every time he spotted you around, somehow, Caspian would be by your side. Sometimes sharing laughs, others with your arms interlaced. It drove him furious.

He didn’t understand why you had to be around him so much. He wasn’t hurt or in need of help, he wasn’t your friend like he was. What was it you two talked about so much? And why was it that it drove him so insane to just think about?

Asking for instructions on where he’d last seen the two of you, Peter lets the faun return to his work, not managing to hide his unsatisfied look before heading out in your direction. Torch in hand, he followed through the empty and darkened tunnels until he found you and the prince sitting by the Stone Table, deep in conversation, so much so that you didn’t notice his presence at all.

He stood there, watching you two chat. Caspian’s arms moved everywhere in front of him while he explained something that had your eyes glued on him, an amused smile creeping to show up on your face.

His blood boiled. His face reddened, and it’s muscles curved into a frown. Spinning on his heels, he returned to where he came from. It wasn’t until you heard his heavy footsteps walking back into the tunnels that you noticed him, the torch fire reflecting on the walls and disappearing along with him.

Excusing yourself, you screamed his name and rushed after him, not understanding what was going on at all. The quick glimpse you had of his face showed you a displeased frown, leaving you worried something might have happened while you and Caspian discussed battle plans.

“Peter, wait!” you screamed after him, almost begging him to stop and talk to you. “What happened?”

“What happened?” he suddenly stopped and turned on his heel to face you. “Nothing happened, Yn.”

His anger ridden voice only confused you more, your head bobbing to the side to stare at him in deep thought. “Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” he argued. “It’s just that we’re preparing for a battle and you’re just hanging out with Caspian and…”

“That’s what this is about then?” you cut him mid sentence. “Me spending time with Caspian?”

“It’s not about you spending time with Caspian.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Then what is it?”

“It's not… I-it’s…” he failed to come up with an explanation, opening and closing his mouth several times. “I’m just worried for my family’s and your safety, thinking of countless plans on how to keep everyone safe while you two are just chatting away.”

“Outrageous!” you exclaimed. “Peter, if me and Caspian are spending any time together is with this fucking battle in mind because you’re so damn stuck in your own head that you won’t listen to anybody!”

“I fucking always listen to you.!” he stated in return, moving forward towards you but you didn’t even flinch..

“Yes, but what about Caspian? Your own brother? They all care about this too, they all want to bring the Narnians to safety, not risk their lives again.”

“You know it wasn’t my fault.” he defended himself, clearly getting what you were hinting on.

“I know!” it was your turn to approach him. “I know you never intended to lose them like that, I was there with you remember, I saw it in your eyes.”

You could've sworn you felt a single tear escaping from your eye, but you weren’t sure and either way, you weren’t too attentive to it to care. “But you’re too stuck in your own head, too worried if you can or not do it to listen to people that actually believe and want to help you. And what was it with the White Witch?! What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” he let out quietly, you barely managed to hear. The space between you a mere inconvenience now, as you both neared each other as words spilled out of your mouths.

“And if you think that I don’t care about your safety too, you’re so wrong because I worry about it day and night. I can barely sleep thinking about your safety and if we’re going to make it out alive, because I know how impulsive and stubborn you can be, Peter, and I can’t even fathom the thought of losing you to Miraz a-and…”

Cupping your face in his larger hands, Peter ended the last bit of space between you by pulling you forward into a kiss.

At first, you didn’t know how to react, how to respond to it, simply staying put and letting his lips touch yours, too surprised by an action you’d never expected from Peter. Your Peter, the stubborn and annoying Peter that made you lose your mind constantly with crazy battle plans and insufferable jokes, now making you lose it with his lips in yours.

His warm breath hitting your cheeks and the soft caress of his thumb on your skin melting you into his embrace, returning the kiss with careful and passionate movements. Your hands tugged on his shirt bringing him, if possible, even closer.

Growing needier, hotter, more desperate, you continue your kiss without breaking for air. His lips dancing above yours, your breathing getting shorter and your chest speeding away. You felt the tip of his tongue sliding inside your mouth, touching yours in a sensation you’d never once felt before, but that you now felt desperately hungry for.

And just when you were about to return the action, stumbling steps and rolling stones broke you apart from each other.

“I-I…” Caspian tried to muster, sliding his back against the painted walls of the tunnels, feet rushing away from you two. “... Just need, erm, to be somewhere.”

Peter had pulled you closer, hiding you in his chest like a protector of your virtue, and you laid your face in it, smelling his strong and woody scent emanating from his skin. His hand rested carefully on your waist now, as he watched Caspian disappear into the shadows over his own shoulder.

“He really admires you.” you called back his attention, wrapping your arms around his torso in a comfortable embrace. “You should listen to his ideas.”

“I know,” he simply replied. “I will.”

And like that you stood for a few more minutes. Wrapped around each other, lullying to the sound of each other’s breaths. A brief moment of quiet, peace and solitude in the chaos that was battle prep.

A moment for you two, that Peter prayed with all his heart wouldn’t be the last.

[promptthebear]

Peter Pevensie x F!Reader

Summary: You end up stranded in Narnia after a routine errand with your family goes awry. The Pevensie siblings take you on an outing to a nearby lake to help pass the time. Chaos ensues. Fem!Reader, set during The Golden Age, written in 2nd person with reader referred to as "you"

A/N: So...this is also using the prompt "Oh look, my will to live, it's gone" bc the anon who sent it also requested Peter and after I did the Tormund version I couldn't get this idea out of my head so...Peter anon wherever you are. Enjoy.

The whole thing was, as usual, Edmund’s fault.

You and your parents had come to pay the Narnian royal family a visit. It was meant to be a quick trip, your father only wanted to petition King Peter for some rights to more farmland when the simple errand was waylaid by a broken carriage wheel. Thankfully, the accident had happened just outside city limits but had left you with an injured driver and no way home.

Since then, you had all been guests at the Cair for nearly three weeks while a solution was found. Under normal circumstances, being stranded anywhere would’ve been tedious at best, with nothing to do but wile away the long days in some dusty inn. You instead found yourself quite enjoying your little detour, given that you were of an age with King Peter and each of his siblings give or take a couple years. They hadn’t hesitated to bring you into the fold, filling your waking hours with various distractions and excursions.

Today’s particular trip had been to the lake, a pleasant little spot with a pebbly beach, calm green waters and a dock for fishing about an hour’s ride from the castle. While Narnian summer wasn’t quite in full swing, it was still a much hotter country than you were used to and you appreciated the cool breeze that danced across the water and gently caressed your skin.

“Do you swim, my Lady?”

At the sound of Peter’s voice, you turned, and gave the King a shy smile.

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. Ettismoor is a frigid land, barren and mostly made of mountains. There aren’t any lakes that I’m aware of, so I never really had the means to learn.”

“Pity,” Peter replied “These waters are perfect for it.”

“We could always teach you, couldn’t we Peter?” Lucy piped up from where she was skipping rocks along the shore line “You’re practically part fish, yourself. Everyone always says so.”

The tips of Peter’s ears suddenly turned red, though whether that was from heat or something else, you couldn’t say.

“You and Susan might have to do the teaching, Lu.” he said, clearing his throat “I don’t think our guest is quite ready to have me prancing about in my smallclothes just yet.”

Lucy let out a giggle, before turning back to searching the ground for flat rocks.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m so used to all of us swimming together, I forgot we aren’t exactly dressed in “proper” clothes when we do.”

You quickly ducked your head, and stared fixedly down at the water. Whether you had wanted it to or not, your mind had snatched up the idea of Peter in a state of undress and run with it. The more you tried to push it away, the more insistent the idea became and the hotter your face grew.

What would he look like, you couldn’t help but wonder, stripped of his doublets and tunics? He’d be well muscled, certainly. You knew he was strong, the other day he’d lifted you onto the back of your horse as easily as someone else might lift a cup of tea. The question was whether that strength was in his arms alone, or if he’d been blessed with a wide chest and chiseled stomach as well? And would he be smooth skinned under his clothes? Or would he have a healthy dusting of hair across his torso, not unlike the reddish beard that adorned his face?

“Penny for your thoughts, my lady?”

The sound of Peter’s voice made you start slightly, and you turned to him, hoping you didn’t look as frantic as you felt. You longed to come up with something witty and clever, something that would make him laugh and flash that devastating smile your way. Though, given that your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears you could hardly think, perhaps coherent was a better choice.

“I-”

A sudden, loud shriek from the general direction of the shore saved you from having to answer. Thankful for the distraction, you glanced over your shoulder and were surprised to see Susan running towards you at full pelt, with Edmund hot on her heels.

“Edmund! You get that disgusting creature away from me, this instant!” the young queen shouted, all decorum forgotten in her panic.

“Oh come on, Sue, it could be a prince! Why don’t you kiss him and see?”

As the two came closer, you glimpsed something small and greenish clutched in Edmund’s cupped hands. You knew right away it was a frog, and shuddered sympathetically on Susan’s behalf. You didn’t much care for the beasts either. Their wet skin and bulging eyes made your stomach turn.

“Will you behave yourselves?” Peter bellowed, his voice taking on a distinct kingly quality “For Aslan’s sake, Ed, we’re not children anymore!”

Neither Susan nor Edmund paid any attention to their brother’s admonishing. Instead, they kept on their chaotic race, down from the grassy shore, across the beach where pebbles flew in their wake and right onto the little dock where you and Peter currently stood.

“Edmund, I’m serious, if you don’t stop it this instant I’m going to thump you so hard-”

“Pucker up, Susan! You don’t want your betrothed to think you don’t like him, do you?”

“Oi! Watch out!”

You’d taken a step backwards to try and escape from the fracas, only to find your boot sinking through thin air rather than onto the dock like you’d planned. All too quickly, the rest of your body followed suit, sending you backwards towards the water, shrieking and flailing like a windmill.

The cold hit you first, making you feel as though someone had just dumped a bucket of ice over your head. You opened your mouth to scream again, perhaps on the slim chance someone would come to your aid, only to have your nose and throat immediately fill with water. Now the cold was inside of you, clawing into the pit of your stomach and freezing your bones in place. You could feel your body tensing with shock, making your feeble attempts to swim to the surface all the more impossible.

Then again, what difference did it make if you tried or not anymore? In order to get to the surface, you needed to know where it was and after being tossed and turned around in this frigid, murky nightmare you weren’t even sure which way was up anymore. The fact of the matter was that you were going to drown, your young life cut short all because you’d never learned to swim.

With your lungs burning and your heart pounding in your ears, you closed your eyes and let your body go limp. Once you stopped fighting, the water seemed to respond in kind. For a moment, you felt strangely peaceful, as though the lake was cradling you in its embrace. You allowed the weight of your shoes and dress to pull you down further into the darkness, imagining you were snuggled deep beneath the blankets on your own bed at home. You were going to die anyway, so why make your last moments fearful ones when you could simply…let go?

You had no sooner accepted your fate when you found yourself suddenly being wrenched in what you assumed was an upward direction. Someone, or something, had managed to hook itself beneath your armpits and was tugging you free of the water with a surprising amount of strength.

Faintly, you recalled that there were merfolk living in Narnia, though the idea only confused you further. Surely if there were such a people, they would be living in the oceans by the coast? And not in some little lake way off in the forests? Whatever this thing was, it seemed determined to save you, and who were you to be ungrateful?

All thoughts of mermaids and otherwise vanished as your rescuer finally brought you to the surface. The moment your face broke through the water, you took deep gasping breaths even though each one stung as though your lungs were filled with angry hornets.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

You tried to place the source of the voice, though when you looked up you could see nothing more than a hazy silhouette, haloed by the bright afternoon sunshine. The shape was human enough, but aside from that there was nothing human about it.

Where people were made of flesh and blood, this being was made of diamonds and spun gold. Nothing in the mortal world could be this beautiful. You reached up to touch your rescuer’s face, your addled mind convinced that if you could just make contact with them somehow, then all that goodness and beauty would flow into you and make your head stop aching so abominably.

It was only when your fingers brushed against the curls of a beard that you finally clued in.

Peter.

“I’m okay!” you all but shouted, sitting up so quickly you nearly smacked your head off the King’s chin. He had been kneeling over you, almost cradling your body within the frame of his arms as he’d inspected you for damage. It actually would’ve been rather nice, were it not for the fact that you were utterly mortified.

“Steady,” Peter said, bringing one of his hands to rest against the small of your back “You don’t want to move too quickly, my lady, otherwise-”

Right on cue you began to cough, your lungs rejecting all the water within them as a fish’s gills reject air. You clung to Peter’s arm for dear life as your body trembled with the effort, your fingers tangling in smooth silk of his sleeve.

The King sat with you while you shook, his blue eyes clouding with concern as he rubbed your back soothingly and murmured faint words of encouragement you couldn’t quite hear. When the spasms had finally run their course, he slipped his arm around your middle and gently guided you to your feet. The simple act of standing made your head spin, and you clung to Peter all the more tightly, far less worried about propriety than you were about not falling back in the lake.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, adjusting his hold on your waist before rounding on his siblings.

“Are you happy now, Ed? Now that you’ve nearly killed someone? I hope your foolishness was worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” the other king mumbled, his expression of boyish contrition making for a strange contrast with his manly features “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Why am I not surprised? Could you perhaps try and look at her when you apologize? I think you owe her that much, at least..”

“I’d…I’d rather not.”

Peter’s brow creased, the eyes beneath them flashing with rage. He was no longer a King, but rather an exasperated older brother, just like a hundred others in his kingdom.

“Ed, of all the disrespectful-first you practically drown the poor girl and now you don’t even to have the decency to look her in the eye when you-”

“Peter.”

Four heads, yours, Edmund’s, Lucy’s and Peter’s, all turned towards Susan. The young Queen’s face was serenely calm, which was at odds with her bright pink cheeks. Susan didn’t strike you as the type to get embarassed or angry often, so what exactly was it that could have her in this state?

“Peter. She’s…she’s soaked.”

You stared at Susan, equally as puzzled as her brother. Of course you were wet, you’d just gone for a surprise dip in the lake. Why was that such a cause for concern?

Unfortunately, you and Peter happened to glance down at the same moment. Your pale green, silk dress, which had seemed like such a clever choice this morning given the heat, was sticking to you like a second skin. Every part of your body was visible, from the divot of your navel to the outline of your breasts and the curves of your thighs and ass. For all the good your dress was doing you, you may as well have been standing there as naked as the day you were born.

“Oh look,” you said to no one in particular as you brought your hands up to preserve what little modesty you could “My will to live, it’s gone.”

“Damn it all” Peter said, flushing red to his hairline “Come here, let’s get you sorted.”

No sooner had the words left Peter’s lips then you became aware of movement from the corner of your eye. You stole a glance up from your feet, and were surprised to see Peter’s fingers flying down the length of buttons on the front of his shirt. With each one opened, another inch of the King’s skin became visible, and as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t help but stare. Was this really happening?

Your fantasies hadn’t been too far off. Peter was strong, the muscles in his arms flexing as he shrugged his shirt from his shoulders. A dusting of curly, reddish hair adorned his chest and stomach, growing in thickness and darkening in color the closer it got to the waistband of his pants. He was also covered in freckles, which spread across his shoulders like a cloak and most likely went down the length of his back.

If Peter noticed your staring, he thankfully didn’t seem bothered by it.

As soon as he’d removed his shirt, he was draping it over your shoulders, guiding your arms into the sleeves and doing up the buttons as though you were a child. You stood, dumbfounded, your mouth dry and your throat tight. The shirt still held the warmth of Peter’s flesh, and smelled faintly of soap and sweat.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” you said, your voice noticeably hoarse.

“You’re welcome.” Peter replied, giving you a warm smile and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. He seemed far more comfortable now that you were covered.

“I think it’s time we head home, don’t you?”

This was from Lucy, who had been rather silent throughout the whole debacle, but as always had a keen knack for jumping in with the perfect suggestion at the perfect moment.

“High time,” came Edmund’s answer, and he quickly turned heel and started walking back towards the shoreline, as though if he ran quickly enough he could outrun the fact that he caused this mess in the first place.

The other Pevensies followed suit, Susan going after Edmund, Lucy following Susan and you and Peter bringing up the rear. Much to your surprise, the King was holding your hand, gently guiding you back towards shore, as though he was afraid you’d drift off if he let go.

As you walked, your eyes were drawn to the lines of Peter’s back, hungrily tracing his shoulders and the slant of his waist like you were trying to commit them to memory. Much like you’d thought, his back was covered in freckles, the faint dots forming constellations across Peter’s smooth, tanned skin. You wanted nothing more than to reach out, wrap your arms around his middle and plant a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Peter was still walking, but he’d turned his head to the side so he could glance at you over his shoulder. The sight of his blue eyes, looking at you so intently, made your pulse quicken.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you said, hoping against hope he hadn’t felt your stare.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I’m sorry Edmund is such a prat. We’ve been waiting for him to grow up for ages, but somehow I don’t think it’s ever going to really happen.”

“No harm done, your majesty” You replied, keeping your eyes trained downwards so you wouldn’t slip on the rocky shore and make yourself into an even bigger fool “Thank you, for rescuing me, and for loaning me your shirt.”

Peter chuckled softly, and shook his blonde curls from his eyes before speaking.

“You’re welcome. I actually think it suits you better than me, anyway.”

[zannolin]

simple needs

“Turn out the lights,” Peter groans. “I’m afraid the sun is beyond my ability to command,” Caspian replies. Peter endeavors, rather sloppily, to take the blankets back. He frowns. “Are you all right? How much wine did you have last night?” Peter glares half-heartedly out from under his crooked arm, squinting with his entire face against the morning light. “Less than you,” he rasps, “because you got carried away with the Dwarves like I told you not to, and then Your Majesty saw fit to throw up nothing but lager twice on the walk back.” “Oh,” says Caspian, recalling this with a wince, “yes. I suppose I did.”

(or, peter's bad at being taken care of, but that isn't stopping everyone else from doing it.)

[strangerfandomfiascos]

I know the fandom isn't the most active anymore but would anyone be able to indulge my recent hyperfixation after a recent rewatch which has rekindled my love for Narnia? Is there anyone left who takes fic/art requests, or even just to chat with ❤️❤️ Putting specifics in the tags 🗡

Also considering writing my own Edmund centric fic at some point so like this post if that's something you'd be interested in

(Also, Stranger Things fandom I haven't forgotten you lol, still working on my first Steddie fic painfully slowly)

[writerdreamxs]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG ! fearless era.

in which you know a little about me and make requests for short stories to me and I turn your dreams into realities. after all, I am a writer of dreams. 💐

first, introductions: my name is clarice, but you can call me clary.

I'm brazilian, so obviously english is not my first language, so there may be some errors in the imagines.

I love taylor swift (my favorite album is fearless, but I think you get the idea :) and one direction, as well as lana del rey, artic monkeys, among many other artists.

I love romcoms, whether films or books, clichés, sun, spring, roses, dogs and I am a person who really likes to talk.

my mbti is enfp, - at least that's what i think, at the moment! - and I have a sanguine temperament.

and I DON'T write smut.

below I will put a list of the characters and fandoms that I mainly write about, but if you want to request something different, feel free.

masterlist. 🌤️

BRIDGERTON 🐝

colin bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, anthony bridgerton, gregory bridgerton, simon basset.

FORMULA ONE. 🏁

all of the grid, but mainly, lando norris, oscar piastri, george russell and max verstappen.

FOOTBALL PLAYERS ⚽

richarlison, rodrygo goes, jude bellingham, vini jr, pedri, gavi, and all of the real madrid team.

HARRY POTTER (golden era)🪄

harry potter, draco malfoy, blaise zabini, fred and george weasley, ron weasley, oliver wood, charlie weasley.

HARRY POTTER (marauders era) 🕰️

remus lupin, sirius black, james potter, peter pettigrew, regulus black, severus snape.

THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA 🦁

peter pevensie, edmund pevensie, caspian.

CELEBRITIES 🍾

timothée chalamet, josh hutcherson, louis partridge, andrew garfield, william moseley, tom holland, ben barnes, archie renaux, cameron boyce ✝.

RANDOM 🩷

trodrick heffley, peter parker 1 and 3, matteo balsano, simon alavrez, ramiro ponce, gaston perida, gabo moretti, lorenzo guevara, dede duarte, willy wonka, chad denforth (hsm), will turner (potc) legolas greenleaf (lor), laurie laurence, supa strikas, luke ross (jessie), carmen sandiego characters, zach mitchell (jw), jurassic world: camp cretaceous caracthers, carlos de vil, jay ja'far, harry hook, ray beech, charlie delgado, aurek, jim hawkins, jack frost, ever after high characters, scooby doo characters, hiccup, the greatest showman, dick grayson and wally west (young justice) .

🦋 well, that's it my sweeties and I hope you liked me and send your requests. 💗

WRITERDREAMXS ©, 2024. 📖

[vinnieswife]

The sword room

Peter Pevensie x reader

words: 880

warnings: smut, oral sex (fem! receiving), peter being a little shit

"He wants to destroy me." You rolled your eyes.

"I think you could definitely beat him ... and then ... give him to me" Edmund smirked at your response, Caspian kept looking down and then looked back up at the two of you, as you were starting to argue about who has who.

"Don't worry Cas, just go out there and kick their smug asses."

"Right." Caspian hugged you as he shook Edmund's hand. Caspian pulled his mask over his head and grabbed his sword as he ran off towards the field.

"Ed?" You asked, as you went to sit in the stands. Peter Pevensie looked at you and all you could think of was his strong, warm body leaning against yours as he kissed you feverishly. You could almost imagine the smile he was giving you as he ran up and down your body. You look up at Edmund, a smile twining your lips. He glares at you.

"Don't even think about it missy, your brother would kill you and then kill me for letting you do it."

Halfway through the games, you could feel the tension getting tighter and tighter. Peter was aiming for Caspian, who was trying to stay away from Tummnus, who was the supposed assassin trying to kill all the supernatural beings in Narnia.

"He's doing really well." I nodded, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"Yeah. That other one, Peter. Caspian doesn't like him."

"I can feel it."

"Why is he looking at you like that?"

"I don't know. By the way, I'm going to run to the warehouse, okay? I'll talk to you in a bit."

"Sure." He nods. You head to the warehouse, completely dodging the many suits of armor that were stored there. As you sigh, leaning against the wall, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Startled, you turn around.

"Peter?" he smiled lowering his head "hello darling" you smiled back "I've missed you, I barely saw you today" his lips were about to touch yours.

"What if Caspian sees us?" you whisper, looking into his eyes through your lashes. “let him see then” he moved closer, his other hand landing on the other side of your neck. His heartbeat quickens, the closer he gets, your feet instinctively recoil, until your back presses against the rock wall. As his chest leans into yours, you take a deep breath, trying to control yourself.

"Please Pete." You whimper, reaching your hands out to grab his forearms. He gripped your waist tighter, before pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes closing, before he moved closer, sliding your body closer. He bent down slightly, due to the large height difference between the two of you.

"Fuck, Peter." You gasped, as he pulled your shirt over your head. You looked up at him passionately, before jumping up, your legs wrapping around him. His hands remained at your sides, not touching you in the slightest. He found it incredibly sexy, that you could practically stay with him. You look down at his bright, beautiful face, biting your lip. You leaned down, as his hands reach for your ass, squeezing.

He pushed you against one of the warehouse benches, leaning over. He stopped to admire you for a second. You unbuttoned your skirt and slid the drawstring down seductively, before a hand slipped under your underwear. He rubbed you gently, sliding one hand up to cup your left breast.

He raised his eyebrows, "Damn, y/n." He groaned, tearing at your thighs and tugging at the remaining fabric. He moved your panties aside and licked your clit. You gasped, your fingers curling into his blond hair. He inserted two fingers into your slit, curling them instantly. You wiggled against his fingers, "Mmm, you like that?" The vibrations sent you into overdrive as Peter muttered the dirty words.

"Shit, Pete! Please!"

"Mm-mm." He shakes his head, before returning to sucking on your clit. He pulls away, drying his hands on his trousers, "I have a game to attend sweetheart." You stand up, your eyes bright with anger and disappointment.

"You didn't."

"Didn't what?" He smirked, running a hand through his hair.

"You're an asshole."

"I give you a reason to come back, am I right?" He spreads his arms wide to prove his point. You glare at him and tie up your skirt and shirt. You fixed your hair, while he gave you an amused look. Your storm passed him, you bumped your shoulder into his in "accident".

Peter walks behind you until you reach the gates of the camp, he left a kiss on your cheek. You scream, seeing him wink at you. He puts his helmet back on and runs into the field, excusing himself over the toilet and feeling dizzy. You stare in awe at the scene before running over to Edmund, who raises his eyebrows at you.

"I'll tell Caspian." He stands up, about to run towards your older brother. You push him down, seating him again.

"Tell him what?"

"That you had sex with Peter!" He ran off and you sighed.

"We didn't have sex." You bit your lip and looked at the man who knocked the wind out of you in the sword store, "Not yet."

[livi008]

༺Daughter Of The Wild༻

(moodboard by me)

༒︎✧˖°.chapter V- the age of forgotten crowns°˖✧༒︎

pairing: caspian x fem!reader category: fantasy; chronicles of narnia; fanfiction word count: 960 a/n: heyy! im so excited to finally have the pevensies join the story! if anyone cares, you may notice some small resentment towards peter in my writing because i dont really like the start of his character in this movie but i tried my best to be impartial lol. also, i dont know if its just in my devices, but the quality of my moodboard is kinda bad right now :( anyways, ill try to fix that for the next chapters, now, just enjoy the reading! (new chapter coming soon ;) )

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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The first light of morning filtered through the trees, casting the forest in a soft, silvery mist.

Lucy stirred from sleep, blinking as the dream faded—the lingering memory of Aslan’s golden eyes watching her, the sound of his voice echoing in her chest.

She sat up slowly, the dew-damp earth cool beneath her palms. Around her, the others still slept, but an invisible pull urged her forward.

Quietly, she rose and wandered into the trees, each step feeling half-dream and half-awake.

A twig snapped nearby. Before she could react, a hand clamped gently over her mouth. She tensed, but then heard the familiar voice whisper against her ear. “Quiet,” Peter murmured.

He pulled her down behind a fallen log just as a hulking Minotaur stalked past, its massive horns gleaming in the misty dawn.

Peter waited until the creature had passed before taking her hand and leading her deeper into the trees. His sword was already drawn, gleaming faintly.

He stepped carefully, every muscle coiled in readiness—until, from the shadows, something lunged at him. Steel flashed

Peter barely managed to block the blow. The clash of metal rang sharp through the trees as he squared off against his attacker.

Caspian.

The prince fought with a desperate intensity, striking fiercely. Peter parried and shoved back, managing to knock Caspian’s blade aside. Caspian stumbled but recovered quickly, dodging Peter’s next swing. Peter drove forward, forcing Caspian back until the prince’s sword lodged in the trunk of a tree with a loud thunk.

Peter surged forward, ready to finish it—only for Caspian to react fast, wrenching Peter’s own blade from his grip where it had briefly stuck into a root. Peter dove, grabbing Caspian’s abandoned sword just in time.

The two circled each other, breathless and tense, weapons raised.

Lucy stood frozen, wide-eyed, until she found her voice.

“NO! Stop!” she cried.

Her voice rang out sharply through the clearing.

Both boys froze.

The sudden tension was broken as the rest of the Narnians began emerging from the trees, weapons drawn.

You appeared too, bow in hand, rushing toward Caspian’s side as instinctively as breathing.

Caspian shifted, sword still pointed at Peter, suspicion tightening his features. Then Peter’s soft voice broke the stillness.

“Prince Caspian?”

Caspian blinked, caught off-guard. “Yes?” he asked, almost cautiously. “And who are you?”

Before he could speak, the others arrived—Susan, Edmund, and Trumpkin.

You quickly lowered your bow and rushed to Trumpkin, throwing your arms around him. The old dwarf gave a pleased grunt, patting your back awkwardly. “Easy there, lass,” he muttered, but you caught the relieved glint in his eyes.

Caspian’s gaze dropped to the sword he was holding—the High King’s sword—and realization flickered across his face. “High King Peter,” he breathed in astonishment.

Peter raised a brow, answering coolly, “I believe you called.”

Caspian opened his mouth, words tumbling out without thought. “Well, yes… but… I thought you would be… older.”

Peter rolled his eyes, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Well, if you like, we can come back in a few years…”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you at Peter’s quick wit. You admired the way he carried himself, so assured—even in a moment like this. Caspian shot you a sideways glare, his jaw tightening slightly at your amused reaction, though you could see the faintest dusting of color rising in his cheeks.

He stumbled to recover, blurting quickly, “No! No, that’s alright. You’re just… not exactly what I expected.”

You reached over and gave him a playful nudge to the shoulder, silently scolding him for putting his foot in his mouth.

Before Caspian could respond further, Edmund’s dry voice cut in, glancing warily toward a nearby Minotaur. “Neither are you.”

Trufflehunter stepped forward, voice steady and commanding. “A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes.”

A flicker of understanding passed between the gathered Narnians.

Reepicheep approached then, drawing his tiny rapier as he bowed low before Peter. “We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege,” he said with great formality.

Peter’s expression softened as he looked down at the small mouse.

“Our hearts and swords are at your service,” Reepicheep declared, his voice brimming with honor.

Lucy leaned toward Susan, whispering under her breath, “Oh my gosh, he’s so cute.”

At once, Reepicheep snapped to attention, sword raised defensively. “Who said that?!”

Lucy shrank back, mumbling, “Sorry…”

The mouse composed himself stiffly. “Oh. Uh… Your Majesty! With the greatest respect, I do believe ‘courageous,’ ‘courteous,’ or ‘chivalrous’ might more befit a knight of Narnia.”

You smirked, stepping forward and chiming in playfully, “Forgive him. Small package, very large temper.”

Lucy let out a muffled giggle behind her hand. Even Susan’s lips twitched.

Reepicheep turned, scandalized, but seeing the twinkle in your eye, he huffed and let it go, tucking his sword neatly away.

Peter sheathed his own weapon with a faint smirk. “Well, at least some of you can handle a blade.”

Reepicheep puffed up proudly. “Indeed. And I have recently put it to good use—securing weapons for your army, sire.”

Peter turned his gaze toward Caspian, authority slipping naturally into his voice. “Good. Because we’re going to need every sword we can get.”

You caught Caspian’s sidelong glance, feeling his slight hesitation. You arched a brow at him in silent question: Is he taking over already?

But Caspian said nothing. Instead, he extended Peter’s sword — the same one he’d torn from his grasp only minutes ago.

Caspian only offered a curt nod, forcing the moment aside. “Well then,” he said, voice a touch stiff, “you’ll probably be wanting yours back.”

Peter took it, less than gently, and with no further words, the group began to move, the mist curling around their feet as they disappeared deeper into the woods.

─ ✧ ─ ✧ ─ ✧ ─ ✧ ─ ✧ ─ ✧ ─

© livi008 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[theaawalker]

a christmas memory ❆ susan pevensie.

Pairing: Susan Pevensie x fem!oc Song Inspo: Graveyard by Halsey Word Count: 2,162 Summary: a Christmas dinner promises snow, reminiscing, s'mores, cuddles, hot chocolate, and a life-changing phone call. Warnings: mentions of death Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

The heavy snow had been falling for hours, carpeting the streets and rooftops of London in a thick, white blanket. Inside a cozy townhouse tucked away on a quiet street, warmth radiated from a crackling fire in the living room fireplace. The scent of roasted vegetables and spices lingered in the air, mixing with the sweetness of hot chocolate and the crackle of the fire. Susan Pevensie stood in the kitchen, her hands busy chopping vegetables for the Christmas dinner she had been planning for weeks. Her movements were purposeful, but there was a gentleness to them — a love for the moment she was about to share with her family, the people who meant the world to her.

On the couch across the room, you sat nestled into a thick, knitted blanket, sipping from a mug of hot chocolate. You were absorbed in your book, Count Luna by Alexander Lernet-Holenia, a gothic, WWII novel that Susan had initially thought too dark for her taste but had come to appreciate for its complexity. The dim light of the room flickered off the pages of the book as you turned them, the snow outside casting a soft glow through the window.

"It's going to be perfect, Susan," you said, looking up from her book and catching Susan's eye with a soft smile. "The dinner, I mean. Everything's ready for your siblings. They’ll love it."

Susan smiled back, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she leaned against the doorway, feeling the warmth of the moment.

"It’s important to me," she admitted, her voice soft. "Christmas means so much to them, to all of us. And this dinner... it's a chance for us to be together, after everything we've been through." Her gaze softened. "I want them to feel at home, to feel loved. They don’t visit often enough."

You nodded, a knowing look in your eyes. "I get it. I’ll make sure it’s all perfect. The rooms are all set up for them. They’ll be comfortable, and after dinner, we can all relax with some s’mores by the fire."

Susan chuckled, the warmth of the moment filling her heart. "You really do think of everything."

Your lips quirked upward. "It’s what I do."

The conversation drifted as Susan resumed her work in the kitchen, her hands moving as though on their own accord. You returned to your mystery book, but the atmosphere was peaceful, a shared understanding between the two of you.

Eventually, the conversation returned to the book.

"I think Count Luna is a bit like a reflection of the past," Susan said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. "It's about escaping reality, about running from the things we can’t change."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Susan hesitated, her mind drifting back to a time long ago, to the days when she was just a child, before everything had changed.

"When I was younger," she said slowly, "I was running from something, too. From a life that was too complicated. From a war that made no sense. My siblings and I were sent away to the professor’s house during the war, to be safe. But I can hardly remember how we passed the time there... it's all a blur."

A flashback unfolded in her mind.

[ Flashback: The Train to the Professor’s House ]

The sound of the train was a constant hum beneath Susan’s feet, the rhythmic clacking of wheels on the track almost lulling her into a trance. She was just eleven years old, her mind still struggling to grasp the magnitude of what had happened. The war. The evacuations. Her parents’ sudden disappearance. She sat in a corner seat of the train, her siblings clustered around her: Peter, ever the protector, Edmund, looking sullen, and Lucy, wide-eyed and uncertain. They had been sent away to live with a professor in the countryside, far from the bombings and the chaos.

Susan couldn’t remember much about the journey itself—just the way the world seemed to blur through the train window, and the hushed voices of her siblings, trying to reassure each other. The journey was long, silent, as if the train itself held its breath.

"Do you think we’ll be safe, Susan?" Lucy asked in a small voice, her tiny hands clutching her sister’s sleeve.

Susan smiled softly, though she wasn’t entirely sure. "We’ll be fine, Lucy," she replied, though she wasn’t convinced herself. She looked at Peter, who gave her a nod of reassurance, but there was fear in his eyes, too.

Edmund broke the silence, his voice full of bitter edge. "I don’t even know why we’re going," he muttered, "It’s not like we’re any safer in the countryside."

Peter glared at him. "Stop being difficult, Ed. We don’t have a choice."

But Susan didn’t intervene. She only gazed out the window, watching the world rush by in a blur of grey and green, wondering what the future would hold.

[ Flashforward: Susan and Yours Townhouse ]

Susan snapped back to the present with a deep breath, trying to shake the memories loose. Looking from the living room and sensing Susan’s shift in mood, you put your book down and stood, moving toward the kitchen.

"That sounds like such a difficult time," you said softly, your arms wrapping Susan from behind in a comforting embrace.

Susan leaned into the embrace, savoring the warmth.

"It was. I can’t even remember how we passed the time at the professor’s house. It’s all a haze — just bits and pieces. But I know it was when I started to realize how much I wanted to protect them, to keep them safe." Her voice dropped. "I promised them that I would."

You kissed the top of her head. "I can see that. You’ve always been their protector, Susan."

Susan smiled faintly, then pulled away, her thoughts drifting. "I think about that time sometimes. How we came from a place of so much fear. But when I think about it, I remember how we all stuck together. Even Edmund."

Your eyes softened. "The bond of family. That’s what matters most."

Susan nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of all those memories. "I think that’s why it’s so important, this dinner. To remember those bonds. To keep them strong."

You smiled and kissed Susan’s cheek. "We’ll make it perfect. And we’ll make new memories, too."

The conversation shifted then, to lighter matters.

"How did we even meet, I wonder?" Susan said, her tone playful. "I remember you were so… irritable."

You laughed softly. "I was not!" she protested.

"You were," Susan said with a smirk. "You bumped into me at the train station and gave me such a look."

You grinned, recalling the memory. "It wasn’t my fault you were standing in my way."

Susan shook her head, grinning.

[ Flashback: The Train Station ]

The bustling train station was a cacophony of hurried footsteps, clattering suitcases, and the distant screech of arriving trains. Susan Pevensie stood in line at the ticket counter, her mind preoccupied with the journey ahead. She was on her way to Doncaster, a trip she had decided on a whim, hoping for a change of scenery. The cold winter air nipped at her skin as she adjusted her scarf, the December chill biting at her exposed cheeks.

She was lost in thought when she heard a voice behind her.

"Excuse me, but I think you're standing on my foot."

Susan turned sharply, a mixture of surprise and irritation crossing her face. Behind her stood a woman, clearly annoyed, with a raised brow and arms crossed. Her dark hair was pulled back by a furry headband, and her sharp eyes were fixed on Susan with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

"Sorry," Susan muttered, stepping back. She was not in the mood for a confrontation. "I didn't notice."

You tilted your head, eyeing Susan for a moment before a wry smile crept across her lips.

"You’re one of those people, aren't you?" You said, tone laced with sarcasm.

Susan raised an eyebrow. "One of what people?"

"The type who don’t notice anything outside their own little bubble," you said with a shrug, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Susan blinked, momentarily taken aback. "I’m sorry, but I don’t think—"

But before she could finish her sentence, the announcement over the PA system blared to life, drowning out the rest of their conversation. You sighed, clearly frustrated by the interruption.

"Great," you muttered under your breath. "I’ve already missed my train, and now I’m stuck with this."

"Maybe you should watch where you're going next time," Susan retorted, not ready to back down from a challenge.

You gave her a look of incredulity. "Oh, I’m sorry, am I ruining your perfect day?"

For a moment, the two exchanged sharp glares, their personalities clashing like two magnets with opposing poles. But then, without another word, you turned and walked toward the train platforms, leaving Susan fuming behind you.

[ Jump to: The Train to Doncaster ]

As fate would have it, both women found themselves on the same train to Doncaster. The train car was crowded, the scent of coffee and stale newspaper filling the air. Susan had already claimed a window seat and was about to settle her luggage when she heard the unmistakable sound of heels clicking on the floor.

The woman from the station approached with purpose. Your eyes met Susan’s, and a flicker of recognition passed between them. Susan frowned, her annoyance from the earlier encounter creeping back.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" you asked, her voice more resigned than polite.

Susan hesitated for a moment.

"I'd rather you not," she said, not willing to back down so easily. The last thing she wanted was to share space with someone who had already rubbed her the wrong way.

Your expression hardened. "Listen. I’m not asking for much. There’s no room anywhere else."

Susan could feel the irritation rising in her chest, but before she could reply, a man appeared, sliding into the seat of hers with a smug look on his face. He glanced at both women and then focused entirely on Susan.

"Excuse me," she said, "I believe this seat is taken."

"I'm afraid not anymore." The man said, his voice grating. His gaze flicked briefly to you, the woman next to Susan, a sneer crossing his lips. He looked back to Susan, wearing a façade of a sweet smile. "Yes. You, sweetheart. You’ll have to find another place."

Susan and you exchanged a brief, wary look. Then, in unison, you both turned to him, glaring at the man who had taken what was Susan's.

"This is my seat," Susan said, her voice low and firm, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

You stepped forward as well, her eyes blazing with defiance. "And this is my seat," she added, her voice sharp with irritation.

The man smirked, clearly thinking he could intimidate them.

"I’m not interested in what you think," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Without warning, the you reached out and grabbed the man by the arm, feigning a horrible sneeze. He wiped his glasses and gaped in shock.

"Apologies, I have- have..." You sneezed again. "Terrible allergies. It's the leather of the train seats, it-" you sneezed once more, taking him aback.

The man wiped his glasses again and gave Susan a look of bewilderment.

"You heard her," she said coldly. "Best not to catch something in this season."

The man stumbled, clearly taken aback, and after a few moments of hesitation, he backed down, muttering curses under his breath. He stomped out to the aisle and off to the other side of the train car, leaving both women standing in the aisle, victorious.

Susan couldn’t help but laugh, the tension that had built between them suddenly evaporating. "Well, that was... something," she said, glancing at you.

You grinned, arms crossed as you gave a small, satisfied shrug. "I do hate being underestimated. And it’s always nice to watch someone get put in their place."

Susan raised an eyebrow, still uncertain but intrigued.

"I didn’t think you had it in you," she teased, stepping back to let you sit.

"Oh, I can be surprisingly stubborn," you replied with a smirk, settling into the seat beside Susan. "You wouldn’t believe the number of people who’ve underestimated me." Your gaze softened. "And you? You’re not so bad yourself."

The remark caught Susan off guard, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words. She hadn’t expected any kind of warmth after their heated exchange. But something in your eyes told her there was more to you than met the eye.

As the train pulled out of the station, the cityscape of London fading into the distance, Susan found herself feeling oddly comfortable in your presence. The cold, tense atmosphere between them had dissolved, and in its place was something else — something unexpected.

You two spent the rest of the journey talking, your earlier tension giving way to easy conversation. You discovered you were both headed to Doncaster for different reasons, but both had a certain openness to the unknown, a curiosity that drew them together. By the time the train neared its destination, Susan realized that the woman sitting beside her was no longer a stranger. In fact, she wasn’t sure when the animosity had faded into something else entirely.

[ Flashforward: Susan and Yours Townhouse ]

Susan chuckled. "It was the start of something good."

The memory filled her with warmth, the way you two had both defended each other, slowly becoming friends, then more. It was a story she would always hold dear.

You leaned in and kissed her, a tender kiss that lingered for a moment.

"I love you," you whispered. "This evening will be perfect."

Susan smiled, feeling the warmth of the kiss linger. "I love you too."

"Now, what do you say we finish those s’mores before your family arrives?" You quipped.

Susan nodded.

"Yes, let's. They’ll be here in," she checked her watch, "ooh! Twenty minutes! I have to get the casserole out and--" But before she could finish, the phone rang in the hall. "That must be them. I'll get that. Would you get the casserole and begin setting the table? Remember, Edmund likes sweets, so put his furthest from the centerfold cake."

"I will. I will." You rubbed her arms and nodded, seeing her off to the ringing telephone. Susan hurried to answer it, her mind distracted by the thought of her siblings arriving.

She answered. "Hello, Peter? How far are you?"

The voice on the other end was cold, official. "Is this Susan Pevensie?" Susan knit her brows. "Speaking. Who is this?"

"Merry Christmas, ma'am. This is the London Police Department. I'm sorry to report there’s been an accident on the Bradley Manor train. A crash, you see." "Oh, God." Susan grabbed the phone with both hands. "Are they alright? My siblings. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy. W-what hospital are were they sent to?

"Ms. Pevensie. Your family... your brothers and sister, they... they didn’t make it."

The words hit Susan like a physical blow. She stood frozen for a moment, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. Then, slowly, she hung up the phone and turned back toward the kitchen, her face pale.

You, in the process of cooling off the casserole, looked at the kitchen counter with a smile. "The casserole came out great, my love. Oh! Lucy's going to love it. You said it was her favorite dish, yes? Did you tell them merry christmas for me, Susan?" There was a pause. "Susan?"

As soon as you turned around and saw the expression on Susan’s face, your smile faltered. "Susan?"

Susan stood motionless, the weight of the news sinking in. Your voice trembled as you approached and asked, "What did they say on the phone?"

Susan swallowed hard, her cracked voice gutting out but a whisper. "They’re not coming home."

The world seemed to stop as the reality of those words settled between them. The fireplace crackled softly, the s’mores and casserole forgotten, as the snow outside continued to fall, blanketing the world in an endless white.

[auroragreenvale]

Peter Pevensie Story - Untitled Pt1

Okay.... another one... another story I've been writing for who knows how long but just don't feel like finishing. Its chapters and notes and rambles and brain dumps. Just stuff lol. Peter Pevensie was my first crush fr and I love this story. Its based on The Selection series and Narnia of course. It started as a story I would play in my head before falling asleep and one night the dialogue and plot was so vivid that I sat up in bed and started writing it on my phone. I actually loved writing this but I honestly didn't fully know where the story was going. There are some plot point in my head that may not even be written down but I didn't really have a full plot. I also started writing with it formatted like a script. Some of it is not correctly formatted and may not even say who is speaking (yikes!). But I am proud of what I did write and we shouldnt be so scared to share something unfinished. Maybe it can inspire someone else! Hope you enjoy.

*and if anyone can think of a good title let me know LOL

---

Fluff, mild angst, he falls first and harder, arranged?? sorta to lovers

--

Angelina sighed. “You will have to choose a gown to wear eventually. Mother is a talented seamstress but she cannot work magic. The ball is in three days.” 

“I am trying but none of these gowns feels like the right one to wear to my first ball.” Her older sister laughed.

“ My dear sister, we are not nearly wealthy enough for you to wear ‘the right gown’. You must make due.” 

“Maybe not the right gown but there must be something better than these. You couldn’t truly picture me wearing any of these. I’d look like… I was pretending to be you! And I know you have at least a few more…” she said letting her words hang in the air hopefully.  Angelina sighed. “Would you please go and get them for me? After all, a girl only attends her first ball once”. 

She could not help but smile at her younger sister's excitement. She loved attending balls and she loved her sister. Angelina was positively beaming every time she thought of sharing such a special night with her closest sibling and being able to bring her just a little more joy. She returned with three more gowns, the three she had deemed not suitable for this particular ball. It was currently very common in Narnia at the moment to wear darker colors and often velvet if one could afford it. Particularly this ball would be a sea of reds, purples, and greens because although the ball was being held for the High King to find a wife, it was truly Queen Susan’s ball. She was known for throwing the most spectacular parties in all of Narnia. While she knew how to host sophisticated parties for diplomats and visiting royals, she most loved celebrating lavishly with her subjects. A deep turquoise was said to be her color, which adorned her coronation cape so many years ago, along with the deep red that often kissed her lips. If she was putting on a ball, the people honored her with the colors in which she felt the most beautiful. While y/n admired her queen and all she had heard about her, she felt somewhat of an impostor in these royal hues. But she knew exactly which gown she would ask her mother to alter to her correct size as soon as her sister placed it down. She remembered watching her sister depart for the ball, wearing this gown. Y/n had believed it to be the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes on and she realized not much had changed when she looked at it. She could not remember the specific stories she had been told about this particular party, just that her sister seemed to glow even more than usual when she had returned home from her night of dancing. The fabric was light and plenty. It flowed in waves of white, gold, and pink hues and she looked at it, almost afraid to touch it. While she knew her sister was right, that her mother could not perform any magic, she had the strangest and most delightful feeling that the dress itself might be able grant her a wish. She just knew this night would be special. After all, Narnia was full of magic. 

~~~~~~

“Why have I not seen you before,” the mystery man asked as they danced.

“Would there have been a reason for you to lay eyes upon my face prior to this moment?” He laughed in response. 

“I just mean– I have attended quite a number of balls here at Cair Paravel and I am usually somewhat familiar with everyone in attendance.” She furrowed her brows mischievously which made him smile. 

“Well I do so apologize for ruining your sense of ease and comfort but I do assure you I am here on no account of ill will but simply to enjoy this splendid party.” He laughs again at her words, just barely.

“No, do not apologize for you have so far added much excitement to a night I expected to be like any other.” At that moment the music picked up and they focused on the intricate footwork of the quick and jovial dance until the music changed again. She expected him to end their dance and find another partner as the musicians slowed their pace, but his hold on her stayed firm and his feet never paused. He spoke again after a while. 

“You did not answer my question.”

“Do remind me what it is that you inquire.” She smiled as she remembered quite well actually.

“Why is this the first ball at which I have seen you in attendance? Are you visiting from a neighboring kingdom? Hoping to win the King’s affections and he yours?” He asked this casually, almost playfully but he was very interested in her answer. Of all the women there whose intentions were precisely that, she had so far been the most successful. Unwittingly winning the attention and intrigue of the King. But he was still unsure. 

“Well, if I am to be completely honest,” she didn’t know why she felt any need to be, “my family does not have much money. At least not enough for us to eat and have shelter and also attend a ball. I have many siblings but… it is my eldest sister that has the privilege of attending the balls. It is somewhat of an investment you see. My mother and father hope that she may win the hand of a wealthy suitor. It’s sort of ridiculous I know because she would just be whisked off with him, no thought of our family crossing his mind… I’m sorry, what was I…? Oh well, she’d always tell me stories of the lovely balls she attended and I dreamed of seeing if only one. And since this very ball seemed to be such a special occasion, my mother fixed up an old gown of my sisters and allowed me to attend. I know that it's dreadfully out of season but truthfully I’ve never felt more regal. I know it's funny to think myself regal, I’ve heard our queens to be more radiant than the sun but… I feel very lucky to be here and in such a beautiful frock.” She spun out of his arms at that moment as was part of the dance. While every other pair in the ballroom turned, he stayed put, staring at her in awe. She turned back to face him and continue their dance she realized he had been studying her. This made her self conscious and she moved to look away from his intense gaze but he placed a hand on the side of her face before she could.  

“I think you look the very picture of a queen.” He spoke with such seriousness that she was stunned and unsure how to react. They stayed like that for some time until she noticed people staring.

“Shall we continue with our dance? People are beginning to stare. We must be blocking the dance floor.”

“Let them stare.” He continues taking in her features for a few more moments. “But if you insist, let us return to our dance.” She smiles softly at this, taking his hand again. The music, having changed again in their pause, is much slower. He pulls her in closer and moves them smoothly across the floor as a pair. 

“Might I learn the name of whom such a beautiful visage belongs to?” Then it was her turn to laugh.

“Why, you flatter me so. I truly did not expect such attention from my first ball,” she said sincerely. There is a pause and he looks at her expectantly. She concedes. 

“It is y/n.”

“It is beautiful. A name as such I would be bold to think, would sound so lovely falling from my lips forever.” She is taken aback, but only for a moment before she responds.

“And might I inquire as to the name of the gentleman before me?”

“Peter, I need to speak with you. It is urgent.” Peter stops, his look of adoration turning quickly to one of annoyance. While the fondness in his gaze made you slightly nervous, you decided you much preferred his tenderness to the frustration you currently saw, although it was not aimed at you. A beautiful woman clothed in deep blue had appeared behind him, causing him to pause your dance.

“Su, can’t you see I’m in the middle of something,” he asks, shortly. 

“You know I hate to be torn away from a ball more than anyone but you’ll have plenty of time for this later. The present matter must be attended to immediately. I trust you will see to the affairs of your kingdom above the affections of a maiden.” He winces at her words but steadies himself. You look between the two of them and notice for the first time that the woman wears a delicate crown of gold, placed atop her dark brown hair. Peter… Su… Susan. Queen Susan. In an instant, it dawns on you and you are grateful you had not yet indulged in any of the refreshments as you feel your stomach churn. The woman, the Queen, must have noticed the look on your face and mistaken you feeling unwell for something else. She spoke and you had to concentrate very hard to hear what she said. The music was suddenly very loud. 

“Do forgive me. I do seem to have forgotten my manners. I hope you are enjoying a pleasant evening and that you have not mistaken my frustrations with my brother as any reflection on my feelings toward you. But I do have to ask for a moment of his attention as it truly is urgent.” She gives him one final, stern look and walks away, trusting he will follow. Peter turns to you quickly but as his hand reaches up to graze your cheek, you feel as though he was moving in slow motion. He held you ever so lightly, as if afraid you might blow away and become lost in the wind. He speaks. almost urgently.

“I will return shortly. Wait here?” You do not know how to answer him but even if you did, you think you would presently be unable to call upon your own voice. 

“Please?” You nod, sensing his urgency, knowing you must give him an answer. You notice how gently he once again speaks, now that you are his only audience. With a small smile and a quick nod of his head, he hastily exits the ballroom. For a moment, all you can do is stand there, as couples dance swiftly around you, until you realize you are unsure if you are able to uphold the promise you just made. The promise to the High King. You could not possibly break it and risk his offense at your disrespect. But you cannot possibly wait for his return for one more second. Your feet move you before you know where it is you're going. Searching for you sister, you paced the perimeter of the ballroom now very aware 

So next she will be leaving and literally run into peter as he is returning and they lock eyes and he can tell she looks freaked tf out and then he notices Oreius standing outside the ballroom and looks at him as if to ask him to watch out for her because he is afraid she’ll leave. So he asks whats shes doing and she says she just needed some air and hes like would you mind if I escorted you to the gardens they are lovely at night so they go outside and are talking ab the kings and queens and hes like lol what ab that one thats likes u loll and shes like what and then yeah idk from there

they need to exchange names at some point lol (tn and orieus)

orieus: Good evening miss where are you off to?

She whipped around, slightly frightened at hearing a voice but comforted upon seeing its source.

yn: Oh I just needed to step out for a moment. Thought I might benefit from a bit of fresh air.

orieus: Well in that case might I escort you to the gardens. They are lovely at night.

yn: Oh I couldn’t remove you from your post, I shall be alright inside.

orieus: Nonsense I am entitled to a few moments of respite and I personally like to spend them in the gardens.

yn: You’re sure you wouldn’t mind too terribly having me interrupt your break?

orieus: I’d love the company. 

Time skip they are walking around in the gardens

yn: You were right about the gardens. They’re exquisite. She grows excited at her next thought. And you get to visit them whenever you please? He laughs slightly at her amusement

orieus: Yes. It is a wonderful perk of my job

yn: And what might that job be?

orieus: I am the general of the royal army and presently I also serve as the head of palace security.

yn: That does sound to be a rather large responsibility on your shoulders.

orieus: Well I couldn’t have anyone else protecting the home of my kings and queens. I could not trust the ability of another when it came to their precious lives.

yn: It sounds like you care for them very much.

orieus: Indeed. I helped welcome them to Narnia when they first arrived. I watched them grow into brave warriors and just rulers. They have been more than kind to me. They are friends and I have given my service to them. 

yn: They sound wonderful.

orieus: I should be glad you think so. And what of the High King himself?

She cannot see but Orieus is grinning. 

yn: Well I have yet to form much of an opinion and I do inquire as to what has caused your curiosity in the matter.

orieus: He did wear quite the look of concern upon seeing your exit from the ballroom. And I know the High King well enough to understand that it was not the general concern of a good host. Were you introduced to him at the ball?

yn: Not exactly. Might I confide in you something that I am somewhat ashamed to admit?

orieus: Of course.

He looked down in worry and realized she was smiling.

yn: Well I was dancing with him and we were making conversation and for the duration of our time together I did not know him to be the High King. They both laughed jovially. This is my first visit to Cair Paravel and I have never seen a picture of his majesty. And to concern matters further he was not wearing his crown. It's as if he meant to trick me!

orieus: I can assure you King Peter’s intentions were not of something so malicious. They laughed still. He likes to enjoy these events as anyone might. Forget the duties of the High King. If only for a little while as you saw. The Queen Susan, she is not one to forget her duties.

yn: I gathered… I ought to be returning now I presume… The High King did request quite some time ago that I wait for him to return. Why do you think he would want me to wait? Perhaps I disrespected him or--

orieus: It seems as if he is quite taken with you. 

yn: Oh… you don’t-- you don’t really think so do you? He looks at her knowingly and she is suddenly uncomfortable. Might we discuss something else for the remainder of our journey back to the palace? Tell me more about yourself. I’m sure you have great stories of your battles. 

They talk and he brings her back to the ballroom. Upon reentering the room, she notices the High King atop his throne, his own gold crown now sat upon his head. He is different now, she can tell from across the room. No longer the charming young man she danced with who loves so quickly, but a man hardened by war and the weight of a kingdom. His handsome youth was replaced by a stoic beauty and maturity. She could not deny that he looked magnificent against the gold of his crown but she also knew that she grew intimidated within his regal presence. She tried to move from the doorway in which she stood to across the room from where the king’s gaze wandered but she knew it was of no use. She had insisted on wearing this gown, colored lightly of champagne instead of one of darker jewel tones as was in style. She knew he would find her the second his eyes landed on the billowing (light in color) fabrics between the velvety layers of crimson and violet. She looked for her sister hoping to engage in conversation as to appear occupied but as she looked back toward the singularly occupied throne, her eyes met with the High King’s. He shot up from his royal chair, his reason for sitting there quickly forgotten. She almost ran before realizing how unbecoming of a lady it would be and remembering who she would be running from. How ridiculous to run from a king at his own ball? So she stood still and he reached her side quickly. Before he could speak, she dropped into a low curtsey like her mother had always taught her when she and her siblings would imagine visiting the palace. She did not stand back up quickly, instead enjoying how this stance allowed her gaze to remain at the floor instead of the man before her. He sighed. 

peter: You… you do not have to do that. She stayed there, perhaps even bowing a little lower. Please will you look at me? He reached out, placing his fingers under her chin, startling her. She quickly stood upright and took two steps back. She always believed she would attend a ball and dance the night away. It sounded so easy, so effortless. But now she was overthinking her every gesture, every word. She was here in front of the High King and while his erratic actions seemed careful and sincere, she could not help but be frightened. Her small Narnian village held no expectations for her but now she was in Cair Paravel with its most important resident and she hadn’t a clue as to how she should behave or what she should do. 

yn: I’d like to apologize, your majesty, if I any of my actions have upset you--

peter: The only thing that upset me was when you left after I asked you to stay. He spoke in a gentle voice but she flinched at his words of authority. Although Orieus expressed his belief at the King’s feelings, she was worried still. All that she had been taught by her parents was taking over and she could only think of herself a subject to her King. Never could she imagine being the object of his affection. Not-- I mean, I was concerned that I had done something to upset you. And I was worried you didn’t want to continue our dance. I was having a lovely time with you this evening. She spoke before realizing

yn: Why did you not tell me you were king? He looked as if he might chuckle. She however, thought this was no laughing matter. 

peter: Well it hadn’t crossed my mind really. I usually do not have to introduce myself, especially not in my own palace. 

yn: You didn’t think it odd when I did not curtsey or fall at your feet? There was a bite in her tone and he noticed. She was horribly embarrassed and he was laughing that arrogant laugh. She felt as if she were talking to a different person. Damn that crown.

peter: No I found it refreshing. While people do not usually fall at my feet… he bit back, but he smiled nonetheless it has been a while since I was able to meet someone as just Peter. And I do hope you will continue to think of me as nothing more… and that we may continue our dance. He held out his hand for her to take. She reluctantly placed her hand atop his, and quickly her face was shining again. And for that Peter could not help but grin at the sight of her radiant smile as they began to dance once more. 

yn: It is very hard to think of you as anything less than my king when you wear that crown. 

peter: It is no different than any piece of jewelry you might adorn.

yn: My necklaces do not come with such responsibility. And... people do not usually stare whenever I wear them. She found the thought amusing.

peter: Considering your beauty it would seem as though people could not help but to stare always. She did not know how to respond. He truly knew how to leave her speechless. But if it shall make you feel any better… he stopped their dancing and unclasped their hands. The other he left on her waist she noticed as he removed his crown and looked quickly around him. Ed! He called out to someone and a tall young man wearing a matching silver crown turned to face the High King. Peter smirked at the younger king’s questioning look  as he held out his own crown. Would you mind holding this for me Edmund? It is getting in the way of our dancing. She almost laughed in amazement. He restored their previous position, ready to continue guiding her across the floor, when Edmund spoke.

edmund: I’m glad to see you’ve resumed your dancing, I would’ve hated to hear Susan yell at you about your responsibilities again. She thought little of this, not connecting this ball with any sort of responsibility besides greeting his subjects and enjoying a night with them. Edmund laughed as he spoke then turned to the girl his brother held. I’m Edmund. I hope you haven’t found my older brother too insufferable. If so I do apologize, I’ve tried to tell him about being such a bossy git all the time. Peter rolled his eyes at his little brother. Not knowing quite why, she felt an intensely comforting presence in Edmund that reminded her of her own brother.

yn: No, only a little bossy but I think I will be able to manage for the remainder of the evening. 

edmund: Well then I presume that for your own sake I should hope you are not invited back to the palace. But for my own I shall wish for your return so that we might team up against my brother some more. She gasped suddenly, one hand leaving Peter’s shoulder to cover her mouth in shock. She had remembered something. You’re supposed to be dancing with the eligible women here! That’s what this ball is being held for! You need to find eligible girls to court and here you are dancing with me. Oh I feel so stupid! How much of your time have I wasted? I do apologize-- as she babbled on she began to walk away. Peter grabbed her hand ever so softly and turned her back to him. Edmund has already turned back to the group he had been speaking with before.

peter: And are you not eligible?

yn: Well I-- I am the second born and my sister is here to meet you not I. But even if I was I am not fit for… this! She gestured almost wildly around the room. I’m sorry your majesty but I must go and allow you to spend some time with the other maidens. I do thank you for the dance, and for chasing me around the ballroom, as it has made my first party here most eventful. And I wish you the best of luck in finding your bride. She curtsied one last time and turned away, promptly leaving his side. 

Omg so they get a letter from the palace (bc all of the girls in attendance do) saying whether or not they are invited to come stay at the palace to court the high king and the letter arrives and her sister is so excited and they open it and its for her not the sister. Shes thinking its got to be a mistake and she hasn't told anyone about them dancing so they all go (the families are allowed to live there for the time as well) and they realize its not a mistake and the sister just has to deal with it and shes so mad (she’ll find love eventually) and homegirl is like in a lowkey selection and we will have lots of cute moments :) and they will of course fall and love and end up together happily ever after the end

mother: Darling! Oh sweetheart. The girls’ mother entered into their shared room calling out for her eldest daughter. She seemed almost frantic. Angelina! Darling! You’ve received a letter from the palace.

sister: Mother are you sure? She was afraid to believe it lest it be ripped away from her when she was so close. But her mother retrieved from behind her back an ornately enclosed letter. The two girls looked at the small envelope in awe. It truly was of royalty. The paper shimmered and was lined with gold filigree. A deep red seal held the precious contents in safely and the front held only their family name written in large black letters. Oh mother do open it quickly! Read it out to us! I think myself much too nervous to hold such delicate paper in my quivering hands.

yn: I cannot believe MY sister getting invited to the palace by the High King himself. She had truly almost forgotten about her encounter with the monarch. It had been just another moment at the ball, one she would cherish along with every other. But she was truly thrilled to see her sister so appreciated by the royals. Her older sister was truly the most wonderful person in her eyes and she wished all of her wildest dreams come true. 

sister: Well don’t forget you’ll be right there by my side in Cair Paravel. Oh mother can you just imagine?

mother: Yes, our family running amok in the palace! I can hardly wait. The two girls laughed, knowing how truly magical it would be to share the wonders of the palace with their loving and chaotic family. Now girls, do we still want me to read this?. She was growing impatient with anticipation and excitement. The girls immediately sat up a little straighter, suddenly very attentive, grasping each other's hands tightly. “(last name), We are honored to extend a cordial invitation to your family for an extended stay at the Palace at Cair Paravel. You are welcome to bring any members of your immediate family to the palace and any important items. Upon arrival you will be provided with everything you will need for the duration of your visit. As the guests of honor, Angelina and Y/n… will be attending a special dinner on the night of your arrival followed by a ball to which you are all invited. The proper attire for the event will be provided for all guests . In three days time a carriage will arrive to retrieve all those who will be traveling to the palace and a special wing will be prepared to house you. We are delighted to have you and are eagerly awaiting your presence. Signed: His Majesty the High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion…” The three women were stunned by the unexpected name written in the letter. The girl whose name it was, was the most shocked of them all. She was confused and worried. She felt a similar sickness as she just remembered she had felt after the realization that she had been dancing with the High King. 

sister: I saw you dance with the High King! I didn’t think however that you were trying to take this opportunity away from me!

yn: I did not know I was dancing with the High King!

sister: he did not introduce himself to you?

yn: Well he did eventually…

sister: And you continued to dance with him?

yn: Was I to decline his majesty?This calmed her sister down just barely as she truly thought of the implications of rejecting the High King. In truth, had she said no, King Peter would have respectfully stepped away, finding another dancing partner but his subjects were always worrying themselves with how their actions could in any way disrespect their magnificent King. And truthfully all we did was dance. It was no more exciting than any other dance I had that night. This was a lie that she herself was trying so hard to believe. I even explained to the High King that it was my sister who had come to meet him, not me.

sister: Oh so I have been invited to the palace out of pity! Or is it just to ensure that you do not decline his invitation. “As long as my dear sissy may accompany me as well it sounds splendid!” You are absolutely full of it!

y/n: Angelina I promise I meant no harm–

sister: Well either way you have caused it haven’t you. She stormed out of the room leaving her mother and younger sister standing shocked.

y/n: Mother I am telling the truth. She had tears in her eyes as she looked to her mother for help.

mother: Darling. I believe you. But that does not change things…

y/n: I will just explain to the king when we arrive that I do not wish to participate and–

mother: It is too late. His decision is made and now you must participate regardless of you or your sister's feelings. 

y/n: But… mother

mother: Have we taught you nothing? Royalty is to be revered and obeyed. Lest what happened to your father and I happen to you. Do you understand? She could only silently nod at her mother, suddenly feeling guilty and remarkably sad. She had heard the stories often, from her parents and other Narnians, about the years gone by. A time she could not remember, before the current Kings and Queens took their seat on the throne. It was a dark and difficult time for the kingdom and left a sense of fear instilled in some, even during times of peace. Her parents had passed down their intense caution to each of their children in hopes to protect them should peace ever be disrupted. So being an obedient daughter, she went to begin packing her things. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~first night ball?? idk i love the ide of this happening while dancing but i feel like there’s too many parties especially balls… but i also feel like this needs to be the first night~~~~~~~~~~~

“y/n” she heard in a soft voice from behind her. she turned around to see Peter admiring her as quests danced around him. He wore a fine red shirt with 

 gold detailing that matched the brilliant crown atop his head. y/n unfortunately could not seem to take her eyes away from it. better than have to meet his eyes she thought. “i am very pleased to see you again.” he stepped toward her. she dipped quickly into a curtesy, though smaller than the ones she had performed previously in his presence. 

“Hello… King Peter,” she said not knowing why she decided to test out the slightly less formal title. 

“You look… lovely,” he said, “Would you care to dance.” She nodded and hesitantly connected hands with him. Peter was quite surprised by her appearance tonight. While he remembered the girl in the soft champagne gown, she stood before him now in a dark burgundy. Layers of fine silk fell down like spilled wine and he couldn’t help but think how elegant she looked, how powerful. He was amazed how in only two meetings she could look so differently beautiful. He wondered about all the other ways she had been beautiful before and the many way she’s would no doubt be beautiful again. he wondered if he  would be lucky enough to see them. In truth she did feel beautiful in this gown. It was gifted by the palace as every maiden was instructed to wear red so as to be easily found throughout the ball by the high king. A smaller ballroom than the one currently holding the festivities had been filled with red dresses earlier that day. Her sister had chosen a bright crimson and others had chosen lighter reds or more orange tones. Red had never been a color y/n reached for but this shade had a cozy quality to it; it reminded her of christmas. so it had been the one she had chosen. weirdly she was happy that peter liked it. although she wouldn’t rather not know his feelings about it at all as she would rather not be dancing with him at the moment. he made her nervous and besides that the only other thing she could focus on was how angry her sister would be if she saw them. 

“I hope your journey to Cair Paravel went smoothly,” he said, breaking her from her thoughts. She looked at him a moment.

“Oh… yes.”

“And I hope your accommodations are to your liking?”

“Yes.” She added a small, uncomfortable smile with that response. 

“I do wish you would talk to me.”

“We are talking.” He sighed and stopped their dance. He did not however separate from her. 

“Please… what is it?”

“I should not be here,” she pleaded. 

“But you are. I implore you to at least try and enjoy it if you must.” She closed her eyes briefly and let her hands drop from his form. She could not help but notice how his hand stayed on her waist. Peter however was completely oblivious to his own behavior which bordered on inappropriate.

“It is presumptuous to think that I could enjoy myself doing anything other than sampling each and every thing tour chefs have prepared for tonight’s ball.” He chuckled lightly at this. It was half hearted but it was her, fear beginning to leave her. 

“Yes how silly of me. I would offer to escort you but I must request we complete at least one full dance before I do that. Does that sound okay?” She reconnected their hands and smiled up at him, tiredly. 

“I suppose that sounds alright,” she said causing him to grin widely as he stepped back into the large formation of dancing couples. 

“Truthfully,” he began, “how has everything been? Is your family settled in?”

“Truthfully,” she repeated, “everything has been lovely. I’ve never seen a more beautiful place in all my life.”

“Well I am glad,” he said. 

“I must say… I really am grateful to be here. Please do not mistake my personal matters as an indication of any less. Simply spending one day here could last me a lifetime,” she said. And she said it with such conviction that for a moment all Peter could do was stare at her in awe. He thought back to his first time in the palace and how he thought he could stay there forever and never take in every detail. He honestly still thought so sometimes. But here was this incredible woman who would be content for the rest of her life having only spent a day in this place he was lucky enough to call his home. He was glad she would get to spend more than one day here, for both their sakes. 

“I—- I am very glad you like it here.”

“I have had trouble finding my way around.” They laughed. 

“It is quite difficult isn’t it. I do remember it took me longer than I’d like to admit.”

“When did you first arrive here? At… the palace I mean?” He stopped to think for a moment. 

“It has been almost ten years I think. I cannot believe it has been that long.” 

“Wow.” She contemplated this. 

“And what about you? Have you always live where you live now?”

“Yes!— Well no but—- My family has lived elsewhere, as did I. But I was very young, but a baby and I do not remember. Our current home is the only place I’ve ever known.”

“And do remind me where home is for you?”

“(town)… um how are you feeling about escorting me to retrieve some refreshments?” He paused slightly at her rather abrupt shift. 

“I would be delighted to escort you.” he smiled, grabbing her hand to lead her over to the table. 

[trumpkinhotboy]

A meritable dance partner

Pairing: Susan x Caspian

Type: Requested (thank you so much!!!)

Genre: Only fluff baby ;)

Warnings: None

Requests: Open for Heartstopper, twilight, narnia

A/n: Once again I'm so so sorry it took me so long to write this :'( but i hope you will like it as much as i enjoyed writing it hehe

i suggest reading it while listening to kingdom dance from rapunzel

gif is not mine!

Summary: On an outing in the nearby villages, Susan still has a few tricks up her sleeves to impress and surprise Caspian

Every other week, it had become a tradition for the kings and queens of Narnia to head down to the villages near the palace. It was an occasion to visit their loyal subject and provide them with any assistance needed. It was most important for the royalty to nurture their relations with their people. Peter, Edmund, Susan, Lucy, and Caspian ruled with respect, love, and trust. This tradition was a way to keep their bond with the inhabitants of Narnia as tight as ever.

It was a lovely day, and the sun shone high in the sky. The wind was soft and warm, like a caress on one's cheek. The royal members rode each on their horses, determined to enjoy the beautiful weather nature had provided.

On their first stop, they came across a group of entertainers joyfully playing music and dancing in the middle of the crowd gathered around them. Susan and Lucy personally knew one woman in the group, as they had met on several occasions now. Once the young woman noticed the Kings and Queens coming their way, she had the crowd open and invited Lucy and Susan to join her in a dance she taught them a while ago.

Lucy, always so full of enthusiasm, immediately joined her friend with a big smile on her face. On the other hand, Susan expressed a little restraint. Anyone who knew her could tell she wanted to join the fast-paced rhythm of the dance but hesitated. Susan cared a lot about protocols and always felt it was her duty to follow them as precisely as possible. That was the excuse she loved to use, but then again, if you properly knew the oldest queen, you knew she was also a little shyer than her siblings.

"Come on Su!" beckoned Lucy from the group of dancers. Even Peter and Edmund encouraged her to join. She looked at them sheepishly, still on the verge of refusing when Caspian intervened. The naive king thought he was helping the gentle queen by proclaiming that she had the right to refuse if she did not wish to join the dance. His strange intervention caught everyone by surprise, especially the Pevensies. Susan looked at Caspian with a frown, to which he innocently responded that he knew how it felt to be forced to join a dance when you didn't know the steps and wanted her to avoid that kind of embarrassment.

Peter and Edmund started chuckling as Lucy crossed her arms and waited to see how long it would take her sister to join in to prove Caspian wrong. As gentle and kind as she may have been, Susan was also renowned among her siblings for being incredibly proud.

"I do not need you to intervene in such a situation. Know that I can still surprise you, Your Highness." Shoulders pulled back with her head held high she joined her little sister with her hands outstretched and entered the merry circle flawlessly.

Caspian stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. Not only did Susan know the steps to the dance, but she was hypnotizing. She was a flow of colors and brown hair dancing in the sun. She was grace itself. When the musicians merrily upped the tempo, all tapping their feet on the ground or moving around the dancers, the gentle queen beautifully followed the rhythm, not missing even a step as she did so.

After an especially difficult pirouette that she accomplished like it was nothing, she sent a mischievous smile to Caspian. The defeated king only stood there with his mouth slightly opened. Awe and marvel were the only emotions you could filter out from his dark eyes.

"You should have known not to underestimate our sister," suggested Edmund as he draped his arms around his friend's shoulders, amusement written on his face. "Beginner's mistake," added Peter, pride shining in his eyes.

The music accelerated in a last infernal effort. Susan and Lucy were barely shadows moving around the circle. Only discernible by the colors of their floating gowns and shining hair whipping around joyfully. With one last turn, the music ended promptly, bringing the merry dance to an end. The crowd erupted in cheers for the dancing group and their queens. Edmund and Peter joined them, shouting the loudest for their sisters. Caspian was still slowly applauding when Susan and Lucy walked back to them. He focused on the rosy-cheeked queen standing before him, her breath incredibly controlled for someone who danced for minutes on end without a break. "I-", started Caspian.

Mischief and pride in her eyes, Susan cut him off. "What were you saying about me humiliating myself with this dance?"

"That was the most incredible and beautiful thing I've ever seen." his voice was barely a whisper. Susan shyly dropped her gaze, suddenly interested in a pebble lodged under her shoe.

They stared timidly at each other before Edmund prompted them to continue their visit. The kings and queens dispersed to converse with villagers, offer them a hand with whatever they needed or lend an ear to their troubles.

At the end of the day, Susan and Caspian rode home in companionable silence. They had barely said a word to each other since the morning. Caspian even accompanied Susan to the door of her chambers, waiting awkwardly on the verge of saying something. Susan stared curiously at him, waiting to see what would come out of his beautiful mouth.

"Did you want to tell me something?" she finally asked after a few moments more in silence.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke. "I want to apologize for my behavior this morning. I just wanted to take care of you, but I should have known you don't need me to do that. My apologies for overstepping." he slightly bowed his head, the image of royal culpability.

The gentle queen stayed silent for a second to observe the young man standing before her.

"I appreciate the apology, and you are right in saying I do not need protecting or that kind of care. That said, it doesn't mean I don't appreciate it."

At the words, he lifted his head, hope illuminating his gaze. "I, in fact, really appreciated your gesture. I just wanted to prove to you that I could do it," she added with a playful grin.

Caspian let out a chuckle of relief. "It truly was the most amazing thing to witness. You were, you are hypnotizing." His gaze loaded with deep emotions, he gathered his breath before continuing. "I wish you would grant me the honor to teach me how to dance. I intend on sharing many dances with you throughout my life, and it would simply not do for someone of your talent to have a partner as mediocre as I am."

From the tip of her toes to the top of her cheeks, delicious warmth spread through the queen. Susan knew very well the deeper meaning in Caspian's words. That is probably why she did not hesitate before answering with a smile.

[lightwing-s]

Hello, could I request a Peter Pevensie x reader, where the reader dreams that she has a baby and a perfect life with Peter, then when she wakes up she realizes that it was all a dream and that makes her very sad and it costs her everything about her dream . Peter then I would like him to have a very loving moment

It was too vivid. Too real. So much that once you were awake, once you didn’t have it all, you felt… empty. You knew you shouldn’t feel this bad over a dream, but it didn’t feel like it at all.

Peter noticed you were off all day. Distant, upset. Every time he tried to talk to you, and you offered him short replies behind a weak and bland voice, a half assed smile gracing your lips, he too felt broken. Unable to help his love, unable to understand what was going on.

It was only after dinner, after you ate quietly amongst the loud crowd that was his siblings, that Peter had a proper opportunity to get you out of your head. As you walked silently towards your bedroom, he followed you in a rush, called your name, and made you stop even though you didn’t want to.

“Yn,” he said softly. Grabbing your waist and making you look at him, he continued. “Baby, what’s wrong? You’ve been strange all day. Too quiet. I’m worried.”

The frown he wore, the visible confusion and worry painted on his face, only made you feel worse. You didn’t mean to worry anyone, especially with such a silly little thing. When he watched your eyes flood with tears, he embraced you in a tight bear hug, letting you cry on his shoulder while he peppered kisses on top of your head.

He truly was lost. Nothing, no one, no anything at all, gave him a clue to why you were upset, and all he could do was bounce you two around, whispering words to try to make you feel better.

He didn’t know how long had passed since you started crying. But he noticed when your sobs got lower. Few and far between. So, slowly, he lifted your chin up so he could look deep into your tear-swollen eyes.

With a weak voice, you finally replied. “I had a dream,” you began, suddenly feeling all stupid for it all. Peter’s face morphed into one of deep confusion. A dream? Why were you this upset about a dream?

“It was… Me and you,” you continued, rubbing his waist for comfort. “And our babies.”

A lone tear escaped from your eyes, as you had believed they were done falling. From confusion, Peter’s face softened, a soft smile beginning to form on his lips. He couldn’t deny that the idea you had dreamed about a future where you two had kids of your own didn’t please him. After all, it was his dream too. But he quite couldn’t get why that made you upset. Were you perhaps not happy with the idea?

“You,” he tried to speak, but his voice suddenly cracked. “You’re not happy with it? You don’t want kids?”

Noticing how far gone from the truth he was, you shook your head ferociously. “No. No! I mean. Yes, I was happy with it. Everything! It’s just that, it was so… So real, Pete. It was as if I truly had birthed them, and not like they were part of my imagination.”

“We were playing around at the beach. Running around them. A boy and a girl. They looked like twins. We were so happy. When I woke up I was so confused, because it felt so realistic, like I truly was there. When it dawned on me it was just a dream it made me so sad. I don’t know why,” you let out a dry laugh. “It so stupid, but… It suddenly felt like all of it was so far from becoming the truth. So… unattainable.”

“Baby,” he cooed. “It’s not stupid. And it’s not unattainable. Why do you think so?”

“I don’t know. I-I… I just don’t know.”

Lowering himself to your height, looking deep into your orbs, Peter concluded.

“Yn, there’s nothing I want most in this world than having my children with you. I love you, more than anything. Do you understand? I don’t know why it ever crossed your mind we could never make that a reality, because, for Aslam, I’ll fucking die trying. Quite literally.”

Stealing a humorous laugh from you, Peter came closer, meeting your lips halfway. As you melted into his embrace, he caressed your body, joining you two closer than possible. When you ran out of breath, he rested his forehead on yours.

“Yn?” 

You hummed in response.

“Tell me more about this dream. I want to know everything about it.”

[saltwaterburns]

if a narnia fic with a simple prompt doesn't have 1000 words of world building i dont want it !!! This was incredible

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.”

[lokotrona11]

Hello! I want to get back to writing and need your help, so if you have any requests for the characters I write, please let me know! I look forward to your requests. !

[luunaz]

Kissing with Pevensie (Peter and Edmund) + Caspian

pairing: Peter Pevensie x reader, Edmund Pevensie x reader, Caspian x reader

type: fluff 🌸

Masterlist

Peter

At first, his kisses are very careful and caring. Despite the fact that Peter is very passionate, he primarily thinks about your comfort. As soon as he feels that you reciprocate, he will definitely deepen the kiss and show how much he is in love with you. His kisses always cloud your mind, they make you dizzy. Peter prefers to kiss you when you're alone so that no one bothers you.

Edmund

His kisses are very domineering. He likes to leave quick kisses on your lips. Watching your embarrassed reaction, he always grins. Edmund always holds you very tightly and hugs you to him. He looks down at you and then kisses you. He also likes naughty kisses, when he can run his tongue over your lips or leave a quick peck on your nose after a passionate kiss. Edmund likes to kiss you in front of everyone, showing that he is the only one here who can make you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Caspian

His kisses are very gentle and sometimes uncertain. There is love and care in his every movement. Your eyes meet, he puts his arm around your waist and slowly approaches you for a kiss. You feel his smile on your lips, and you smile involuntarily. Caspian likes to hold your hands and kiss you on the forehead. It's like a way for him to show you that he's ready to protect you from everything.

[strangerfandomfiascos]

I requested this little Narnia one shot from @little-bit-obsessed a couple of weeks ago, go show it some love ❤️🗡🌲✨️

I've found myself unexpectedly back in this fandom for the first time in years so feel free to dm me to chat or discuss giving/receiving requests 🌿

[raven-dor]

mine, all mine, all mine

four times in which edmund is an overly cautious father

PAIRING: edmund pevensie x wife!reader, edmund pevensie x oc!children

WARNINGS: fluff, overprotective nature, sword fighting, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

🎶 : my love mine all mine - mitski

AN: 🩵💗 - This is set during the Golden Age, so all of them are adults!! also your title is fair, as in an adjective for just, not at all a description of what the reader looks like!! your children's names are caroline and stephen!!

one.

“Edmund!” A frantic voice called out through the west wing of Cair Paravel. “Edmund, come quickly!” 

The just king’s heart sank. He raced down the hall, pushing past lords, ladies, and servants alike to get to his wife. She was rather far along, he told himself. Perhaps she had gone into labor early… The very thought filled him with fear. Their rooms were in the east wing, completely across the vast castle. 

He wouldn’t want her to deliver in a place she was not familiar with, but unless she wanted to walk across the castle…

He burst through the doors, ready for anything. 

Anything except his very pregnant wife laughing at their eldest, who had ripped their rather expensive curtains and turned them into a tunic of some sort. The girl was merely five, but as his wife said, very conscious of her fashion choices. 

Edmund tried not to glare at the fair queen, walking beside her and placing a gentle hand on her stomach. “How is the babe?” 

“Fine.” She waved him off, kissing his cheek quickly as she watched their daughter. 

He smiled, watching her grin widen. “And you? How are you?” 

“Fine, Edmund. I’m fine,” She rubbed her stomach, grabbing his hand in hers. “He’s fine. We’re all fine.” Her eyebrows contorted with a sort of concern and humor. “Did you run here? I hope I didn’t worry-”

He shook his head, kissing her lips lightly. “How do you know it will be a boy?” 

“A mother always knows.” She smirked. “Just like I knew the last time.” 

Edmund rolled his eyes, turning back to their daughter. “Peter will be furious.” 

“At you perhaps,” Y/N murmured. “Your brother adores Caroline. He will find it hilarious.” 

“Caroline,” Edmund called out, distracting their daughter. “Come here, my love.” 

The small girl raced over, attaching herself to her father’s leg. “Papa!” 

He lifted his leg, groaning. “You are quite strong. Tell me, how did you rip the curtain?” 

The child giggled. “I cut it.” 

Edmund looked up at his wife slowly, who was hiding her laughter behind her hand. “Really?” 

Y/N nodded. “I got caught in the hall talking to Lord Dilitmov and she ran off.” Gesturing towards their very attentive daughter, she laughed again. “This is how I found her.” 

Edmund couldn’t help it anymore, laughing along with her. “You are quite the mischievous child.” He shook his head, walking out of the room with his wife’s arm through his and his daughter attached to his leg. “I wonder where you get it from.” 

Caroline giggled. “You, Papa!” 

Edmund scoffed, shaking his head as they (slowly) walked down the hall. “Nonsense. You get that trait from your mother.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I thought we established we were not to lie to our children, Edmund.” 

Caroline nodded, batting her eyelashes. “Are you lying, Papa?” 

Edmund sighed. “You two…” 

two.

“But Father-” 

“No!” Edmund snapped, staring at his children from his throne. It had been the middle of his weekly audience with the people of Narnia, and his children had burst in, interrupting for thirty minutes. He had explicitly told them to only interrupt if it was an emergency. While he loved his children greatly, his people needed his time, and they could not interrupt just because the wished to. 

Apparently that message had not stuck. 

“Edmund…” Y/N leaned over, whispering in her husband’s ear. “You know what I’m going to say.” 

He shook his head. “My love, that is completely out of the question. It is too dangerous-” 

She rose an eyebrow, halting him in his tracks. “Did we or did we not go into the Narnian woods alone when we were merely 11?” 

“That-” 

“Did we or did we not?” 

He sighed. “We did-” 

“Exactly.” 

“But…” His children groaned. “We had no idea of the danger that lay in wait. That the entire world was in.” He grabbed his wife's hand, kissing the back gently. “What if she comes back? What if there are assassins or-” 

“Edmund, she has been gone for twenty eight years. And since when have there been assassins? They will be perfectly safe.” Y/N kissed the back of his hand in return. “Trust me.” 

“Please father?” His son pleaded. “Caroline has wanted to show me-” The elder girl elbowed her brother, effectively cutting him off. “I meant, Caroline heard of a-” 

Edmund waved his hand. “Caroline, I expect you to watch over your brother.” He sat straight in his throne. “You may be eleven, Stephen, but you are my son, and I do not want you or your sister going into the Woods without telling us. Ever again.” He looked over at his daughter. “Don’t think General Oreius hasn’t been keeping me updated on your little excursions.” 

Caroline groaned. “Papa, I am sixteen, surely you believe I am capable of handling myself.” 

“Your father loves you my dear.” Y/N smiled. “You are an independent and strong young lady, but you are still a princess-” 

“Of Narnia, yes I know. I am constantly reminded.” Caroline crossed her arms. “May we please be excused?” 

Edmund nodded. “Be safe, please. For my sake.” 

As soon as they had left the throne room, Edmund gestured for a guard to approach. “Send a scout after them, ensure they are not harmed.” 

The guard nodded, walking away before the fair queen called after him. “Make sure you are not seen.” Edmund tilted his head, and she sighed. “We can’t let them think we don’t trust them, Edmund.”

He groaned, leaning his head against the back of his throne. “Caroline despises me. I can see it as clear as day.” 

Y/N laughed. “Oh my dear boy…” 

Edmund shook his head, looking over at his radiant wife. “Not a boy. Not anymore.” 

“You will always be a boy. That will never change.” She smiled. “Just as our daughter’s love will never change.” 

“She used to love me, always following me around and attending meetings. Now she cannot be in the same room as me without disagreeing.” 

“She is growing, Edmund. It is a confusing time for anyone, let alone a young princess with duties and responsibilities. She loves you, trust me.” 

“Why did she have to grow so fast?” Edmund’s eyes began to water. “My little girl.” 

Y/N laughed again, kissing her husband’s cheek sympathetically. “Shall we call the audience back?” 

He nodded, clearing his throat. “I believe we should.” 

three.

Edmund stood on his terrace, watching his son train in the courtyard. He was getting good, better even, than Edmund himself. In his prime, as he so often reminded his children, he had been the best swordsman in Narnia, better than their uncle. 

Now, he swapped his sword for a pen, making sure all the laws he had implemented over the years were documented correctly. His son, when he was of age, would take up the mantle of Commander of the Narnian Army. Until then, his cousin, Peter’s eldest son, would hold the position. 

Stephen was always trying to prove himself to his father, although Edmund could not figure out why. He thought his son was a fantastic young prince, kind, cunning, and just. He was well loved by the people of Cair Paravel, and he treated everyone with respect. 

Edmund couldn’t have asked for a better son than him. He loved his children more than anything, besides his wife, and hoped that they knew that. 

He waved as Stephen looked up, eyes widening when he realized his father was watching. His son waved back, only to be taken by surprise from his tutor, swiping his legs out from under him. Stephen fell backwards, landing on the ground with a thud, stilling. 

Edmund’s smile dropped, and he threw his quill to the ground, running to the courtyard. 

What he did not see was his son pretending to be hurt in order to catch his tutor off guard. 

Edmund burst through the large doors, yelling. “Where is my son? What-” 

Stephen froze, turning around with bright red cheeks. “Father, you’re embarrassing me-” 

Edmund raced over, hugging him tightly. “Are you quite alright?” 

“Father I am-” 

The instructor interrupted. “If I may Your Majesty, your son disarmed me.” He smiled. “Quite cunningly in fact.” 

Edmund laughed, looking back at his son. “Is that true?” 

Stephen nodded. “Yes, Father.” 

“Well…” Edmund clapped his hands. “I am sorry for overreacting.” 

Stephen laughed. “It’s alright, Father. Truthfully, I'm glad you were watching.” He nudged the king. “Perhaps we can spar each other.” 

“Absolutely not.” The crowd of knights and noblemen alike turned around, kneeling instantly. ‘Your Majesty’ echoed through the yard as the fair queen walked towards her family. Y/N kissed her son on the cheek. “You know your father has a bad shoulder.” 

Edmund glared playfully at his wife. “My love, it is fine.” 

“Oh, is it?” She crossed her arms. “I remember you saying just last night that-” Edmund kissed her quickly, much to the dismay of their son. 

“Really Papa? You two are much too old to be acting this way.” 

And daughter, apparently. The older couple turned around, smiling at the Princess. “I am never too old to appreciate your mother’s beauty, Caroline.” He smiled, kissed her cheek gently. “Never too old.” 

Y/N smiled back, watching as Caroline completely ignored her father, staring at her brother’s instructor with an intensity that Y/N could only compare to how she looked at Edmund. The instructor locked eyes, blushing immediately and taking his leave from the courtyard. 

Interesting, Y/N thought as she watched her daughter’s attention drift away. Very interesting.

four.

“Father!” A voice echoed through the west wing, and Edmund’s heart dropped. “Father, come quickly!” 

He ran like a young man again, whipping through the lords and ladies alike to get to his daughter. His grandchildren were young, and he had fussed over them almost as much as he had his own children. The thought of something happening to them, or his daughter filled him with a sense of dread. 

Slamming the doors open, he let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw the entirety of his family standing around the table, a birthday cake with too many candles in the center. He walked up to his daughter, kissing her on the cheek. “You almost gave me a heart attack, young lady.” 

Caroline laughed, kissing her father’s cheek in return. “Not so young anymore Papa.” She gestured toward the cake. “Make a wish.” 

Peter yelled out from his chair. Edmund’s heart always broke at the sight; his once full of life, powerful older brother, was now an old man, older than Edmund had ever imagined him. “Take your time Ed. I’m not getting any younger.” 

Edmund glared, shoving his brother playfully. “How does your wife put up with you I wonder.” 

Peter scoffed. “Probably as well as yours does. Poor Y/N.” He laughed. “She is a saint for marrying you. As are your children for putting up with you.” 

Lucy sighed. “Can you two please stop bickering?” 

Susan nodded. “It is quite exhausting.” 

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Where is your mother Stephen? I have not seen her all day-” 

The door creaked, and Edmund turned around, grinning. Aslan, she was radiant. As radiant as the day he met her, nearly eighty years ago. Approaching her husband, she kissed him gently, whispering so they were the only two that heard. “Miss me?” 

“Every moment you are away.” Edmund responded, taking her arm. “How was your day my love?” 

“It-” 

His grandchildren groaned. “Grandfather, cut the cake, please!” 

Caroline widened her eyes. “Behave yourselves. Honestly, I don’t know where you get it from.” 

The old couple broke out into hysterical laughter, as did the rest of the room almost immediately after. “Oh my dear girl.” Edmund said in between laughs. “We are quite similar.” 

Stephen scoffed. “Who does that make me like-” Caroline smacked her brother over the head, and he stopped, turning slowly toward his sister. “What was that for?” 

“Shut it.” She hissed, smiling sweetly back at her parents. “Shall we cut your cake Father?” 

Edmund nodded, approaching the cake. “What flavor is it?” 

“Raspberry and chocolate.” Caroline smiled. “Your favourite.” 

Edmund grinned, taking a deep breath. Closing his eyes for a moment, flashes of his life flew through, from when he first met his new neighbor (now wife) to now. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, blowing out the candles with a single blow. The room erupted into cheers, his youngest granddaughter pulling on his tunic. “What did you wish for Grandfather?” 

He knelt down, whispering. “It wouldn’t be much of a wish if I told you, now would it?” 

She shook her head, giggling. “I suppose not.” 

He stood up, looking over at his wife with all the love he could muster. Y/N stared back, smiling gently. “Are you quite alright, my love?”

“Perfect.” Edmund whispered. “Thank you.” 

She laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder as they looked at their family. “Whatever for?” 

“Everything.” Edmund smiled. “Everything.”

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