#peter pevensie oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 9 months

Note

Hello!! So excited that your requests are open! Would you do a Peter Pevensie X reader where they get trapped after battle (maybe in a cave waiting for the other pevensies to reach them) and the reader is injured so Peter has to care for her and some fluff and comfort?? Thank you! 💗💗💗 If you don't choose to write it thats ok!

masterlist

There are two soldiers in a cave, waiting for rescue. One is a king; the other, one of his subjects. He is sitting upright, alternating between anxiously scanning the mouth of the cave for intruders and staring back down at the girl. She is less active, but that is due in part to the ever growing pool of blood underneath her ribs.

They have been here for quite some time already, and although the king will not admit it, he fears that it will be quite some time again before they are rescued. He must have faith, though, for both of them. It is hard not to worry. Not when Peter Pevensie can picture so plainly how they got here, and why they were forced into the cave to begin with.

They were not supposed to be attacked, but it happened anyway. Narnia is a kingdom, and kingdoms fall. Rival kings lust for power that isn’t theirs, and peaceful homelands must rally to protect themselves. Soldiers turn to bitter struggles, cowards turn to run. You had two choices when the banner of war was lifted: stay and fight, or leave and live.

You chose to stay. Will that be what kills you, wanting to be there for your friends? No one can tell for certain, but your blood is darkening the stones beneath you with a deeper stain than you’d like, and the thought of rescue is quite far off. There is no guarantee that anyone will reach you in time, regardless of what Peter is trying to whisper to you. There is no guarantee that you can hear him at all anymore.

Instead, you can hear him yesterday morning, strangely strong despite the early hour of the morning. Narnian spies had come back around dawn bearing news of an approaching army, one that didn’t look friendly. The Pevensies had been carefully monitoring threats to their kingdom for years, but no one could tell for sure that one would attack until they were already on horseback with hands on weapons.

There had been limited time for defense. Peter had rallied his army and their allies, and his siblings frantically evacuated the surrounding townspeople to a safer location, all the while battening down the hatches at home so that Cair Paravel would not be taken. Battle plans were drafted long ago, but it is one thing to write them up in the safety of peace, and something else entirely to have to use them.

The attackers didn’t arrive until midday. They gave an announcement that Narnia was to surrender peacefully or fall violently. Standing on the ramparts of the castle, looking down on the swarms of soldiers, you could feel anger burning in your chest at the insult of it all. As if Narnia would fall to a paltry foe like some neighboring king. As if there was any among your ranks that would not fight to their last breath to defend their kingdom.

Peter had given an answer somewhat along those lines, although, as coached by Susan, with a little more tact. You could tell he was fighting to keep his rage in check, though, if the red crescents imprinted into his palms from where his fingernails had bit into his palms were any sort of warning sign.

After that, the only thing left was to go to war. Before the fighting started, Peter had pulled you aside and asked if you really wanted to do this. You were a soldier of Narnia, a force fighting for good, but more than that, you were his friend, and Peter did not want to lose anyone if he could avoid it.

Tucked into a quiet alcove of Cair Paravel, golden hair rusted over with the shadows of the dark corner, Peter’s hands had tightened around yours as he said, “You can leave now, Y/N. If you want to. I want you to be safe.”

You had shaken your head. “Absolutely not. Narnia is my home, Peter. I can’t leave when she needs me.”

Peter had sighed ruefully, but the spark of pride behind his worried expression had told you what you wanted to know the most: having you there with him meant more than he could possibly describe. The two of you are friends, just friends, but sometimes, you think that the sort of friendship you have with him has long outstripped any sort of bond of camaraderie either of you have held with anyone else. If you die, you will do it by his side. If he falls, he wants you there to see it.

Thus the battle was waged. You donned your armor as quickly as you could, grabbing your weapons before helping the other soldiers. It was time to defend your homeland. No cause could be more important. No risk could be as worthy.

The sun is setting over the hills; Peter cannot see much of it, tucked into the cave as the two of you are, but the loss of light is enough to cause him significant worry. The attackers, although arrived around noon the previous day, had waited until the dark of night to close their ranks and begin the fight. It had added a deadly edge of danger to an already perilous battle, what with the reduced visibility.

The battle had been fought well through the night and into the next dawn, but Peter is not sure that another midnight spent in this stone refuge will prove a good idea for either of you. Mainly for you; Peter looks down again, noticing that your eyes flutter closed more than they stay open, and your skin looks dull and tired even without the loss of light. He pulls you closer to him, shuts his eyes, and prays to anyone who will hear, anyone worthwhile listening, that someone will save you. Not even him. It just has to be you.

Night falls and you hear the clang of steel against steel reverberating around you. Your soldiers, though kept in rigorous practice, have not been to war in a while. They do not exercise the cruelty that the enemy fighters seem to have in spades. What you do have is heart, though, and Narnia has taught you that even the most formidable of odds can be overturned in time.

Slowly, surely, light begins to creep over the sky, and the Narnians manage to push their attackers back from Cair Paravel, over the uneven, rocky ground and towards the mountains once more. Smooth ground twists itself with stone outcroppings, making the fight even trickier than it was before. You step over bodies on the ground, unable to tell whether they are friend or foe, but you force yourself to keep your head. It would not do to lose control now.

Dawn is upon you at last, touching rosy fingers over scarlet blood and pearlescent bone. There is no such thing as a good fight, an honorable war, and if you return home, the lingering knowledge of what has been done upon this land will sit with you for a long time to come. When you come home, that is. After all of this, you must survive. Narnia must survive.

A shout, a scream; soldiers pour over the hills again, and you realize with a chill that your enemies had reinforcements in line, waiting for something like this to happen. You managed to get yourself stuck on the outskirts of the battle in an attempt to go after some higher ranking officials in the enemy army, and now you’re lost in the downstream current of dozens of opposing soldiers flooding towards you.

Too many for you to fight by yourself, that much is certain, but you have no choice now. They encircle you, and even as you manage to take down some, there are too many of them. One raises his sword as you parry another soldier, and when you blink, it has pierced your armor, threading your ribs. It doesn’t hurt and then it does, an agony like lightning rattling through your entire body.

You might scream, you’re not sure of it. You wait for them to kill you, but strangely enough, the death blow does not come. Someone catches you before you fall, and the early morning sun shines on golden curls. Peter. He’s found you, somehow, in the tumult of the battle. You can just hear him shouting to his men that he’s going to take you to cover, and then he’s picked you up, cradling you in his arms like a bride, and running for shelter.

There’s a cave not far from here. Peter stumbles in, twisting past boulders and turns in the tunnel before he gently puts you down behind the cover of a rocky outcropping. There are too many of them out there, running past the mouth of the cave, so Peter does not dare leave you even when you tell him that you’ll be fine. It is a lie. He knows it. He stays.

Peter tells you that, despite the arrival of the enemy reinforcements, he believes the battle will be settled in favor of the Narnians. The enemy fighters were desperate, they knew they were going to lose, which was why they called in more men. They’re still being forced past the Narnian borders, though, even with a king and a soldier pulled out of the fight like this.

Peter won’t risk leaving you, not with the precarious shape you’re in. Besides, the landscape is so messed up with rocks that he is not sure that he could find this particular cave if he steps outside of it to fight again. You can hear the shouts of men, but neither of you can tell whether they’re Narnian or not. To shout back is to risk death.

Instead, the two of you stay there in the cave, feeling the hours tick by, unable to do a thing about it. Peter grows more restless as you grow more still. He tells you that his siblings will look for the two of you, that when they come, you will be safe.

“We’ll be fine,” he says, voice unnaturally slow, like a schoolboy repeating a lesson he’s learned by heart, “We’ll be fine.” You’re not entirely sure if he believes it.

And then it is dark again, and there is still no one here. Peter does not know if you are alive. He is telling himself that you are, because to keep up desperate hope is far better than giving in to the fear that he has lost you like this. There is a chance you have survived; the enemy soldier who hit you had slashed you across the front instead of stabbing you directly, which is what Peter did when he stumbled upon the scene and realized that he was about to lose the only person that matters to him more than anything else. We all have our demons, our secrets.

A scratching sound at the mouth of the cave, somewhat like a mouse but heavier, too, more purposeful. Could an enemy soldier have come back to finish the job? They may not have been able to take Cair Paravel, but they could at least slaughter the High King while they were running away.

Peter feels his entire body tense, his hand resting on his sword. He dares not draw it, too afraid of risking the noise. He’ll fight for both of them if he has to. He’ll keep them alive a little longer. Y/N does not stir by his side.

And then– a voice, just a few meters away. “Peter?”

It’s his sister. It’s Susan. Peter lets out a gasp of relief that could be a sob and calls back as loudly as he dares, “Susan?”

A clattering of footsteps and three siblings descend into the cave. Edmund’s eyes are wide and scared, but the fear starts to go away when Peter carefully gets to his feet and pulls his younger brother into an embrace. Ed starts to say something about how he thought– he thought– but Peter says it’s okay, he is not hurt, but then the words roll back on his tongue because Y/N is not okay, and therefore he cannot be, either.

Lucy has already found her friend lying motionless on the ground and hurriedly rummages through the small red bag on her side, reaching for the healing cordial she received so long ago. She carefully lets a few drops fall onto Y/N’s mouth, and the entirety of several millennia passes before Y/N coughs quietly and starts to sit up.

Peter falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around her. Distantly, he hears Susan ushering his siblings away, something about wanting to give them space, but he does not care, he does not care because she is alright, Y/N is alright, and that means he is, too, very much alright.

Y/N whispers in his ear, voice still hoarse but healing, slowly. It’s okay, they have time. “You stayed?”

“Yes,” Peter says back, choking on some unnameable emotion, “I did. I would never leave you, Y/N. I– I love you. You know that.”

She does. “I love you too,” she says, and Peter can find it within himself to smile at last, to help her up, to walk back with her to the castle. They have time. It is okay. They will all, somehow, be alright after this, and that means that far fewer worries crown Peter’s head tonight and all nights after that.

requested by @ajwild220, i hope you enjoy!

narnia tag list: empty for now, message me to be added!

#peter pevensie #peter pevensie imagines #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie oneshot #narnia #narnia imagines #narnia x reader #narnia oneshot #narnia peter #narnia peter imagines #narnia peter x reader #narnia peter oneshot

519 notes · View notes

wrenwreads · 2 years

Note

Hi! Would you mind writing a request for me? It's a Peter Pevensie x best friend fem! reader where the reader gets injured during a battle and Peter starts ignoring her because he was so scared he would lose her. Then maybe you could add some fluff? Thank you!

battle wounds

sometimes, fear disguises love

pairing/s: peter pevensie x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of blood, scars, wounds, sharp object i.e. swords, almost loosing a loved one and... i think that's it

genre: some angst, some fluff — overall, happy ending

word count: 1.4k

a/n: as shown above, based on anon's request. MY FIRST REQUEST AS WELL AAAAAAAAAAAAA (i am actually so excited omg) i really really hope i've done your request justice 😭 this took me quite a while and it's not a personal fave but i defo still like it.

Y/N and Peter had been fighting side by side together.

Something he had admired about Y/N were her fighting skills, having the amazing talent of fighting a battle with two swords. But now, the same talent had his mind going turmoils. He knew his best friends had the capabilities to fight in battle — hell, she was even better than him at it. He just couldn’t help but let his worries eat him alive.

So imagine how he felt when you were suddenly gone from his sight. One second you guys were back to back and now you’re gone. He had to resist himself from abandoning everyone else in favour of looking for you, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

Narnia had won the battle, nights spent awake practising and planning was worth it. Relief had been cruising through his body when he finally saw you, only to be replaced with dread when he saw suddenly slouched down against the wall. A centaur was with you — nothing but concern etched on his face.

“Y/N!” he called, recklessly dropping his equipment as he quickly made his way over to you. From where he was approaching, he could see you were clutching your sides, a dark stain around your hand. His call had caught yours and the centaurs attention. You looked at him through squinted eyes, no doubt from the pain.

Peter dropped to his knees, carrying your upper body over on his lap. “Hey...” he whispered, brushing away strands of your hair away from your face. “Pete, it hurts,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “Shh... it’s alright.” He continued comforting the girl whilst gently lifting her up in her arms.

It was difficult, but Peter managed to get themselves on the centaur. He continued speaking to her, keeping her conscious for the short ride towards their tents. His dread only got worse when you tight hold on his hand began to loosen. He shook your limp body, desperate to keep you alive, “Hey, hey! Y/N, stay with me! Hey!”.

He could only tell the centaur to move faster.

The small movement of her body had caught Lucy’s attention. She abandoned the book she was reading, her palms now holding on to the hospital mattress, tightly in anticipation. She finally let out a breath of air when Y/N opened her eyes.

“Y/N, you’re awake!”

Lucy’s small voice called. She gave the older girl a few moments to adjust. Y/N looked around. They were beds, and curtains between beds. Bottles of who knows what in cabinets.

She was in the infirmary.

The young girl was sat beside her bed, an adorable smile on her face. Y/N knew that smile too well — the same one she always gave whenever she needed one even way before they entered Narnia. Y/N nodded, laughing at the small squeal that escaped Lucy.

Lucy quickly but gently wrapped her arms around her. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered to her ear. Y/N tightened her hug. “I’m glad I’m okay too, Lucy,” she whispered back. Y/N closed her eyes, taking in a big breath if relief before opening them again.

Lucy removed herself from the hug, although her hands were still on Y/N’s shoulder. “And Peter will be glad too! Of course Ed and Susan as well, but we know what Peter’s like when it comes to you,” she said.

As if on cue, the double doors burst open, revealing Edmund and Susan. The two looked around frantically, shoulders visibly relaxing upon seeing Y/N sitting up straight. They gave her quick hugs, unshed tears glistening their eyes. “Is everyone else alright?” Y/N asked, earning a chuckle from Edmund and an eye roll from Susan. “You literally got stabbed and you’re asking us about our welfare?,” Susan scoffed.

“I’m alright now, am I?”

Another round of laughter circled the room. However, there was one thing on Y/N’s mind. A certain blond-haired young man who she swore was with her before she passed out. “He’s around somewhere. He’s alright,” Susan said. Y/N smiled gratefully, looking at the three people that had grown as her younger siblings over the past years, happy that they were more than alright.

“Another group hug?”

Lucy obviously dove into Y/N arms first with glee.

Much to her dismay, the faun — Dug — had insisted on making Y/N stay another night at the infirmary. Lucy was kind enough to keep her company for the rest of the afternoon before she had to leave for supper. "I've got to monitor you for another night my dear general," Dug had said. Her attempts at complaining were ignored, she could only lay down back to her bed.

By the next morning, the gash on her side had closed up significantly thanks to the works of the healer. The faun gave her a pointed look, helping her up the bed. “Make sure to come back tomorrow dear. Doesn’t mean you’re walking, you’re finally healed.”

“Don’t worry Dug, I don’t think I’m going to battle anytime soon.”

“That’s what they all say…” the faun sighed, shaking his head in amusement.

Y/N quickly left the room in search of her best friend. She had been waiting for him to come by and visit, but to her surprise, he didn’t. She didn’t let her own sadness get in the way, he was after — High King of Narnia. She just couldn’t help but frown a bit at just the lack of a glimpse of him. She only hoped what Susan told her was the truth and not something very sugar coated.

She searched for him around the palace, occasionally stopping to talk to other Narnians who resided in the palace asking about her wellbeing.

She has found him at last. In the secret garden they had found together one night during one of Susan’s balls. His back was facing her. She would’ve ran towards him if it wasn’t for his very tense posture. “Peter?” she softly called, as if she was going to break something if she spoke any louder. She could hear a scoff coming from his direction.

“Lu, I told you to give me so—“

“I don’t sound like Lucy, do I?”

Something in Peter had woken up, he had to steady himself from how quick he turned his body around. He was looking at her like he’s seen a ghost. His eyes were wide, mouth barely open. Not to mention his face slowly turning pale.

She slowly took a few steps towards him. Once she was close enough, the young man finally snapped. Engulfing Y/N with his arms. His hold was tight, scared that if he’d hold her looser, she’d slip away. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her arms finding shelter just over his own.

His body began to quiver under her hold, she could feel tear drops staining the fabric of her dress. "Peter... hey... It's alright. I'm alright," she assured, swaying their bodies back and forth. Her heart practically broke at how Peter desperately shook his head. She really didn't want to, but she parted from the hug. "Look at me," she whispered, using her hands to guide Peter's face.

She frowned upon seeing his red-rimmed eyes.

He pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in. "I thought I'd lost you," he gulped keeping his eyes closed.

"It's okay."

"I didn't visit— because—"

"Hey, let's breath for a sec, yeah? Come on, let's do it together. "

Peter didn't say a single word, but the soft squeeze from his hand was enough. For a moment, it was quiet. Just their soft breaths accompanying the singing birds of Narnia.

Peter had finally managed to calm himself down, opening his eyes to meet Y/N's for the first time that day. "Hi," she smiled. Peter couldn’t help himself but smile. “Hi.”

“Are we alright?,” she had to ask, a slice of worry within her. “We’re more than alright,” Peter reassured, hugging her again — careful not to bother her cut. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you,” he mumbled.

“It’s alright.”

“No it’s not Y/N. I—“ he took a breath in. “I was scared that I’ll go in the infirmary and you’d be… dead. I was scared. I should’ve came and visited.”

“It’s alright.”

She could only repeat her words back.

The two once again stayed in silence, each other’s presence enough to fill in the atmosphere.

If the situation was different, maybe Peter would have said more words. He decided to keep those to himself for now.

thank u sm again for staying till the end. i am slowly realising i seem to write stuff that will mostly include 2 parts. which is honestly a good thing as it motivates me to continue writing (obv with the breaks in between). i hope u enjoyed. xoxo

#peter pevensie x reader #the chronicles of narnia x reader #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #x reader #pevensie x reader #peter pevensie x y/n #peter pevensie fanfiction #peter pevensie x fem!reader #peter pevensie one shot #peter pevensie oneshot #the chronicles of narnia #wrenwritespete

514 notes · View notes

chrisili · 6 months

Text

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊?

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x fem!reader

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

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

Genre: friends to enemies to lovers? Angst? Fluff

Word count: 2,8 k

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

Masterlist

________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N COME ON!”

“PETER! HURRY UP!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not hard enough…” she mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

“And nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

573 notes · View notes

electrictorch · 2 years

Text

imagine

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

warnings: none.

aes: soft, tender, romantic

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

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

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

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

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

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

553 notes · View notes

an-angels-fury · 4 months

Text

You're the Most Beautiful Boy

Yeah, the first time I finish a fanfic in my life (well, I don't even know if this counts as a fanfic anyway - a oneshot maybe??? - but anyway...) and, surprisingly, is about Caspeter!!!

Ngl, I'm quite happy with the final result.

Also, just to be clear, this is supposed to be read as Peter's POV (it's basically all about him being traumatized and emotionally fucked up and, because of that, thinking he's unworthy of love and Caspian just being there to prove him otherwise).

The fic's title is taken out from the song of same name by The Irrepressibles (this one and "Two Men in Love" are so fucking beautiful and have such strong Caspeter Vibes in a way I can't even express 🥹😍).

Anyway, good reading 🫶

P.S.: A friendly reminder that English isn't my first language, so pls give me a break.

(Inspired by this post )

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reasons to not kiss him:

1. You weren't raised to love tender.

You are capable of love. You know how to be kind. You've doubted many things about yourself, but your unshakable devotion to those you love has never been one of them. But when you live in a world gripped by war, where you know that everything you hold dear can be ripped away from you at any moment in the blink of an eye; where blood, death, and the crying of ghosts from the past haunt your worst nightmares, you learn to hold on to the little lives around you.

You still remember almost doubling over in despair at the sight of your half-dead brother on the battlefield, blood dripping from his lips and his fragile breathing faltering; you remember seeing him come back to life and hold his small body in your shaking arms, hugging him to your chest as if your heartbeat depended on it. You still remember scolding him for his disobedience with your voice breaking, feeling the trails of tears burning your cheeks and blurring your vision because you almost lost him. You almost lost him.

You are the oldest brother. You are the High King. Protecting your family and your kingdom is your responsibility, your duty. To love is to protect what gives meaning to your existence, even if the price is your own life. This is how you love: you surrender completely to the uncertainty of fate, because the light that shines in your heart burns brighter than the fear pulsing through your veins.

You are capable of love. You know how to be kind. You never doubted that. It's the way you love that terrifies you on your most restless nights - intensely, fervently, always fighting and holding on so tight that your teeth grind and your knuckles turn white. Your love is like the Sun: welcoming, radiant. But, above all, consuming. And you're afraid that your love will scare him - someone who never knew love at all - as much as it scares you.

2. When he’s around all you do is tremble. When he’s around you want to get on your knees. Look how much power he has over you. It's dangerous.

There are a million reasons why you convince yourself that you truly hate him. You recite this list in your mind like a sacred mantra to never forget.

You hate the indignation in the prince's voice every time he insists on going against or disagreeing with your decisions. You hate the boy's immaturity in dealing with his own emotions. You hate his gall in pointing the sword at your throat while you blame him for the tragedy you both brought upon yourselves and your people. You hate him for wanting to steal your throne and crown - symbols whose weight you never asked to carry. You hate him because he is an insecure, confused, and angry boy who is constantly trying to prove himself fit and worthy to take on the title of king. You hate him because... he's exactly like you.

You also hate the way those dark eyes meet your blue ones, like night meets day, and penetrate the cracks of your invisible armor as if it were nothing but air. You hate the blush that takes over your face every time you quickly look to the side and notice the sparkle of fascination and idolatry in the prince's eyes, always admiring you from afar, in silence. You hate how, every day you spend by his side, your heart races at the sound of his voice, your body weakens at the touch of his hand, and the words formed in your mouth dissolve into the air like smoke. You can still feel the heat of fire on your tongue.

You hate him for the effect he has on you - and he doesn't even have a clue.

3. He's too good at forgiving and you're too good at violence.

You despise violence. You despise everything that is connected to the idea. But sometimes violence seems like the only thing you're really good at. It's a curse.

All books that narrate stories about the Golden Age of Narnia have always emphasized how skilled and unbeatable the High King was on the battlefield; how your war cry was powerful enough to make the mountains shake and the spirits of your soldiers rise to the heavens. But none of them made mention of the horrors that haunted you, even when you were already surrounded by the safety of the walls of your castle, your beloved home.

All those memories, so vivid in your dreams that they leave you thrashing in bed and waking up voiceless, your skin pale and cold with sweat and the tremors taking over every inch of your body. The screams of your men begging for help and suffering in pure agony. The dirt from your nails and the blood of your enemies that still runs hot and sticky down your fingers no matter how many times you wash your hands. No matter how many times you run away from war, it will always find you. You already know her and even greet her like an old friend. You already feel her presence - the famous shiver down your spine - before she even has a chance to knock on your door. She found a home in you. It's part of who you are.

His tanned skin, once smooth and delicate in the sunlight, already showed the first battle marks, small cuts on his beautiful face and calluses around his fingers. He was just beginning to understand the price of holding a life in his hands. You fear that this burden will be too heavy for him to carry and that, sooner or later, his shoulders will give in to the exhaustion caused by the pain of his actions. You learned to pick yourself up and rebuild yourself again, piece by piece. You learned to hide the pain with a smile. You always held on, not because you believed you were brave enough or strong enough, but because you believed it was the right thing to do. For your family. For your people. For your home.

“But what about him?” You ask yourself when you turn your back to the man on his knees beside you and face the young prince, giving him your sword, offering him the chance to kill the uncle who left him an orphan and who, years later, tried to destroy him and usurp his throne. You see the coldness in those brown eyes as they stare back at you, as well as the flicker of doubt that lies within, and you quickly look away when he takes the weapon.

"But what about him?" The question keeps echoing in your head, until it is silenced by the angry scream that escapes the prince's throat. In one agile movement, he throws the blade towards the ground and orders the defeated tyrant to leave with his life. You watch carefully the way the boy gets up and walks away from his uncle with slow, heavy steps, his chin raised and his eyes shining with unshed tears. The feeling of relief takes over your heart for a moment and, without even realizing it, your dry lips open into a simple line, similar to the shadow of a smile.

This is the moment you realize who the real man in front of you is. That's the king you're fighting for. Whatever challenges the future will bring him, he'll face them the same way he did today: with justice, dignity, mercy and, above all, kindness. He is good and forgiving and you love him for it. But you would never admit that out loud, least of all to yourself.

4. You know what they say about monsters. You know what happens to the boys who love them. Are you going to do that to him?

"You're not a monster" Your siblings whisper in your ears after another night in which you drag yourself out of nightmares, suffocated by your own crying and clenched fists, with your nails pressed so hard against your palms to the point of oozing blood. For a moment, you surrender to the sweet sound of the voices you love most in the world and allow them to caress you like feathers, calming the inner bitterness that torments you and does not allow you to rest.

Maybe you're not a monster, but you know well their wicked schemes and the treacherous way they act. You know them because you carry them with you every day. They are there, sinking teeth into your neck and claws into your wrists, making you spit and drown in your own blood. You still feel the craving caused by the bitter taste of bile that burns the roof of your mouth like acid. You still feel the shiver caused by the nauseating sensation of the demon's snake tongue hissing in your ear, exposing all your weaknesses and reminding you of all your crimes.

They want to break you and destroy the railings that imprison them. They want to crush your bones and make you suffer slowly and painfully until you have no choice but to bend to their will. They want you to set them free. But you refuse. You never give in.

You can scream to the void at the top of your lungs until your knees give in from exhaustion. You can punch a stone wall over and over again until your knuckles are black and throbbing. You can even lie on the floor in a huge ball of pain and anguish and pull at your blond hair as you try to get rid of the red-hot steel chains wrapped around your lungs that prevent you from breathing properly.

And that's why you do everything you can to push him away. The thought of your monsters tearing and corrupting his spirit from the inside out, forcing him to see the image of who you truly are, is too much for you to bear. You would never forgive yourself for seeing that light die and knowing that you were responsible for such horror.

No, you're not a monster. You carry them inside you and hear their angry and accusatory words every night, but you will never allow them to turn you into something you're not. Never.

5. Your hands don’t know how to be gentle. Think about the last beautiful thing that shattered in your palms. The fresh rosebuds crumbling between your fingers like a bruise. You wolf-boy, you war machine. You wouldn’t know how to hold something magic and not destroy it.

Once upon a time, a large and majestic golden-maned lion named you "Wolf's Bane". But the truth is that no ruin you brought to any creature would ever compare to the ruin you carry within yourself. There was no reason to be proud of being a weapon in God's hands. There was no reason to boast about the lethality of your sword. There was nothing glorious about war.

You are not a god, nor a king, nor a man, much less a boy. You are a nameless being, a freak of nature, dressed in a skin that does not belong to you. Whatever is inside your chest burns and twists like red-hot iron. You are a burning hurricane with the face of an angel and the scars of an old man who has lived hundreds, thousands of lives. You brought happiness and love during your reign, but you also left a trail of destruction in your wake. And you know that he would go through the path of darkness just to hold your hand and keep you company amid the rubble of the Hell you carry inside, even though he knows that it would condemn him forever, simply because he loves you. He loves you and you know it and it tortures you.

One touch of your lips would be enough to turn the flowers growing in your loved one's soul into ashes and you would witness the delicate petals decomposing in your hands. How could you destroy something so beautiful and live the rest of your life without hating yourself for it?

6. If you hurt him it might kill you.

"You won't hurt him. You won't break his heart."

It is a solemn oath that you are fully committed to keeping. You will not allow your selfishness to speak louder, no matter how tempting it may be. You are better than this. A love like this could only end in disaster, and you are already too tired, too damaged, too fed up with fighting the inevitable. Deceiving him with a false promise only to abandon him immediately with the intention of never seeing him again would be cruel, if not sadistic. It would be like sticking a dagger into his heart as you stood there, just watching the life vanish from his eyes like mist into the void. Another crime to be added to your pile of rubble.

"You won't do that. You won't break his heart. Unless you want to die."

7. If you hurt him you might kill yourself.

He doesn't really know you. He doesn't and you convince yourself it's better this way. If only he knew all the thoughts that go through your head every time you look at him. All the things you think about doing with him when you two are alone... you'd never have the courage to face him again.

If you could open your chest and rip out all those feelings you know you shouldn't feel just so you could have a minute of peace and silence, you would have done it a long time ago. Maybe then you would finally be able to form some coherent thought related to any other subject or anyone other than him.

You need to 'unlearn' this love, before you hurt him beyond repair and are unable to forgive yourself. He's lost too much too, you remember. He has suffered enough and he doesn't deserve this. You don't deserve him. Since when does a sinner with sinful desires deserve good things?

8. You are very bad at rehabilitation. This is one addiction you’d fail to give up. He's going to ruin you for all other kisses and all other boys and you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to forget his name.

You always knew that this love story could never come true. You may be proud, reckless, careless, but you are no fool.

You remember the ball at the castle after the Narnians won the battle of Beruna. You remember seeing centaurs and fauns dancing, nymphs singing, laughing dwarves and talking animals enjoying the food and drinks served. You also remember smiling when you saw your siblings having fun and enjoying every moment of that night as if there was no tomorrow and reveling in their happiness. There was life and music and dance and explosions of light and color and every detail was a delight to the heart and soul. But when your eyes meet the prince - now crowned king - dressed in his ceremonial robe, letting himself be carried away by the festive atmosphere and exuding the purest joy, everything around him seems to fade in comparison. He looks majestic.

For a quick moment, the new king's eyes meet yours in the crowd and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat and your breathing falter. In another life, you would walk up to him and ask him to dance. In another life, he would hold your hand and place a chaste kiss on your fingers. He would laugh adorably at the blush growing on your cheeks and you, infected by the sweetness present in that voice, would laugh back. And when you both least realized it, you would kiss him and whisper your vows of love against the warmth of his lips like a believer whispers his prayers to a saint and, suddenly, you would feel stronger, more courageous and free. And when you opened your eyes, he would still be there, smiling, and there he would remain for the rest of your lives.

But that will never happen. One day, the king will find his perfect match, his queen - or perhaps king - and nothing else will matter. He will be happy and he will be able to love without fear, and you... you will spend the rest of your life trying to move on, but without ever really leaving your place. You cannot love him as he wants to be, as he deserves to be. You can't do it because your heart already belongs to something so much bigger than yourself. But you're also unable to forget him.

Either way, he was never yours to lose.

9. You still aren't sure he isn't a dream.

He's too good to be true. Sometimes you find yourself pinching your arm just to make sure he's real and not another one of your many fervent delusions.

Before you leave, you try to hold on to all the times you closed your eyes and found yourself surrounded by those strong arms, feeling the magical touch of his hands illuminating all the cold and dark spots of your soul. All the times you dreamed of running your fingers through that long, black hair, getting lost in those soft, wavy locks that fall down the back of his neck in the form of a beautiful waterfall. All the times you woke up panting after imagining yourself tasting that mouth and delighting in the sweet nectar of those rose lips.

Yes, you promise to record every detail of him like a man in love memorizing the lines of a poem. You will dream so much about him and the story you both could have written that maybe - maybe - the higher force that governs the universe will hear your cry and take notice of your suffering, making your dearest wish come true. And everyone around you will sigh in a mixture of delight and envy when they see you together, because none of them had ever witnessed a purer and truer love like yours until then.

10. If you kiss him, you might wake up.

The hard truth is that you don't want to leave. You didn't wait for this moment for so long only for it to end so soon.

You are not ready to leave him. You're not ready to say goodbye. But what other choice do you have? You may be a king, but even you don't have the power to control the stars, turn back the clock or stop the sun from setting. Destiny is an intangible and indomitable mystery and trying to change this fact is a battle doomed to failure.

However, no matter how aware you are about the way things work, fear remains. You're afraid you won't kiss him and spend the rest of your days cursing yourself for missing the chance of a lifetime. But you're also afraid to kiss him and, the moment you open your eyes, you'll find yourself in the solitude of your room in England, realizing that he never really existed and everything that made him who he was was just an illusion created by your mind as a way to escape the cold reality that was your life.

Yes, you want to protect him from yourself. But the hard truth is that you also want to spare your battered and patched heart the pain of breaking again, as it has happened so many times before. The harsh truth is that you are much more fragile and sensitive than you wish you were.

"You love him" Your melancholic heart weeps.

"Yes, I do" You mourn "And that's why I must let him go"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reasons to kiss him:

1. Because he's beautiful.

Oh God, he is so beautiful. His face, his arms and hands and feet make up a masterpiece so luminous and divine that it would make the greatest artist in the universe prostrate himself on the floor in tears. He is the most beautiful boy you have ever seen with your own eyes, both inside and out.

Every little thing about him enchants you and steals your breath away, even the ones that others would consider too insignificant to even bother paying attention to: like the way a wild lock of his hair fall delicately in front of his eye and you have to hold back the urge to approach and use your hand to pull it away and place it behind his ear. Or the dimple that appears on the left side of his mouth every time he smiles or laughs. Or the way he turns up his nose and bite his lower lip when he's lost in thought or in a deep state of concentration.

And of course, there was his innocent, childlike excitement as he shared the story behind every constellation he was able to find in the sky. You always believed that the night suited him well, similar to a black veil decorated with moon and silver, as if his very being had been conceived by the stars that fascinate him so much and call him by his name.

Yes, he is absolutely beautiful. And you, just a mere mortal, wonder how long you'll still be strong and intelligent enough before you let yourself be seduced by the sound of that velvety voice and those eyes that seem to analyze you attentively as if you were some kind of enigma to be deciphered. It's like he's able to see some beauty inside you that you yourself could never see. Or that maybe you have just forgotten.

2. Because he asked.

You never expected that, on your last night, he would notice your absence in the middle of the party and see you retreating to the privacy of your chambers, just wishing you could fall into a deep, empty sleep where you could forget about the coming of tomorrow for some hours. You never expected that he would abandon his own moment of glory just to run after you and ask if you were okay. You never expected that his hand entwined with yours would be enough to tear down all the barriers you had built around you and leave you completely defenseless, with nowhere to hide. However, the most unexpected of all was when the new king, in a shy gesture, gently lifted your chin with his fingertips so that your eyes met his - those dark, adoring eyes that seemed to strip away every inch of your body - and said in a playful and, at the same time, challenging tone:

"Kiss me"

You're not sure if that was a request or an order, but what does it matter? The only thing you know is that his touch burns your cheeks and it feels so, so good and those eyes are now focused on your lips and the two of you remain where you are for what feels like ages and this silent torture is slowly killing you two.

You're still scared. It's fear that paralyzes you and leaves you stagnant. Afraid of this all being a dream, fear of ruining him, fear of God despising you for your dirty and sinful soul, but mostly, fear of suffering and knowing that you brought it all upon yourself.

But he wants the same thing as you and he has expressed that desire right there in front of you - the desire that you have worked so hard to bury in the depths of your heart. Would it be so bad to let it speak louder just once in your life?

3. Because he preceded "Please" with "I'm not afraid of you".

He presses his forehead against yours and whispers your name in an exasperated voice and you can feel all the yearning, all the desire and all the devotion and you don't understand how you can stay standing after that. You finally decide to break your silence:

"I don't want to hurt you"

You don't try to appear strong, you don't want to pretend anymore. So you do the only thing you are capable of doing now: you just tell the truth.

You can feel the warmth of his breath caressing your lips when he tells you:

"I'm not afraid of you"

And then, he gets closer to your face until your mouths are just a few millimeters apart.

“Please” He is practically begging this time and you want so badly to give in, you want so badly to end his agony and just let him in. So you finally come to conclusion that if this is the only chance you have to truly love him, even if just for one night, then you will take it like your life depends on it. And that's exactly what you do: you close your eyes and kiss him.

He tastes like honey and wine and sweet surrender and, for once, you know it's real and not just another dream. You drink and savor and breathe this moment and he responds with the same intensity.

He touches you as if you were a treasure. You are the Sun and you are magnificent to him, not because of your title, your power or the legendary aura that the idealization of your figure carries. You are magnificent because you are human just like him and the simple fact of your existence is a miracle in itself. He draws a map of the sky on your skin and transforms all your scars and imperfections into the constellations he adores so much. From then on, all you want most is to show him the way you see him, how he makes you shine.

So you take him to your bed and between kisses and whispers and prayers and messy sheets, you love him. You love him, again and again and again. And when the flame that consumes you burns out and you both let yourselves being taken by the wave of calm that falls upon the room, you hug him and press the palm of your hand against his chest, paying attention to the song that his heart sings. At that moment, he covers your hand with his and smiles.

"Take care of it. Take it and carry it in your heart. It's yours."

I'm yours.

24 notes · View notes

pariahsparadise · 2 years

Text

warm ii | e. p.

nav. | m.list

requested by @aphroditelxver : hey!! i just saw your edmund one shot "warm" and fell in love with the way you write!!<3 so may i request one were edmund is jealous of reader talking to some prince from other country and he confess his love for her? it could also be a part two from "warm"!

wc: 1.6k

pairings: edmund pevensie x gn!feminine!reader

warnings: unedited work, idk if i swear but i probably did, badly written writing as usual, alcohol

a/n: i am so sorry. it was only after i had finished writing this that i realised i was supposed to keep the reader gender neutral. i did give them a dress, so i'm genuinely sorry about that, but i've tried to avoid using pronouns/anything else that indicates gender. and now that it's written like this, i can't think of any other way for it to go. this story can be read as a part 2 to warm or a standalone.

read part 1 here

Edmund Pevensie was an idiot.

Anyone who glanced at the Just King was immediately taken aback by the vicious glare cemented across his face. It was starkly out of place, for Edmund was surrounded by the finest refinery and culture that Narnia’s neighbouring kingdoms had to offer. Trades and alliances had already been forged with an impressive total of three nations, and the ball wasn’t even in full swing yet. Not to mention, this gala had all been Edmund’s idea. And everything had been going exactly according to his plan.

Except for the part where you twirled around the dance floor, beaming at a tall blonde prince whose hand was placed dangerously low on your back.

Edmund really couldn’t blame him, he supposed. You were easily the most beautiful person in the hall. Your dress was well-fitting, the skirts various shades of blue that shimmered when you moved, akin to a sparkling waterfall. All words that he could ever have spoken wilted and died on his tongue the second he laid eyes on you, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth when he spotted the royal accompanying you.

He decided he couldn’t watch any more when your dance partner twirled you away and quickly into his arms again, earning a delighted shriek from you. Turning around and walking away abruptly, Edmund headed towards his new best friend, the bartender.

Not long after he had drained two glasses of glittery red wine, he felt a rough swat on his head.

“Ouch,” he said dryly, not deigning to acknowledge his little sister with a proper greeting.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lucy asked, scowling at him fiercely, “You’re scaring away every chance we have of forming a treaty with the Archenlanders. Can you stop glaring at their prince?”

“Who’s their prince?” Edmund said, his hand reaching to grab his third glass of wine, but Lucy swatted at it in a rather unqueenly manner until he pulled it back again.

“Prince Anthony, remember? The one Y/N’s entertaining.”

“Ah,” Edmund said, diving forward for the glass again at the reminder, too quick for Lucy to stop him, “The prick.”

Lucy frowned disapprovingly at his words, “Maybe don’t call him that. A treaty with Archenland is invaluable, so keep your jealousy hidden, alright? And not,” she added, signalling to the bartender that she was cutting Edmund off, “In wine.”

Edmund didn’t bother denying what Lucy said. Being the Just King meant he had to be fair, even when confronting his own emotions, even when he’d rather stick forks in his eyes. Heaving a sigh, he stood up from the barstool he had previously sat on, his expression carefully neutralised as he walked up to Peter, joining him in offering greetings to new monarchs who had just arrived.

You stumbled out behind the billowing curtains into the balcony, heaving a large sigh. It was exhausting having to accompany Prince Anthony around, considering that the man would not stop talking about himself. You really didn’t need to know all of his sword-fighting feats, and privately, you thought that a certain dark-haired individual could trump him in a matter of seconds. And although he kept commenting about how your blue dress matched the hue of his eyes, you couldn’t help but think that you’d compliment a brown-eyed King better. Having disguised your departure from Anthony’s side as a visit to the lavatory, you gripped the balcony railings and took a deep breath of fresh air, grateful for the break from the stuffiness.

“Wow. Is the ball I’m throwing that bad?”

You startled, head whipping around quick, only for your shoulders to slump in relief once you recognised Edmund.

“It is,” you said, walking closer to the man, trying to keep your eyes fixed on his face so he couldn’t tell just how much you liked his suit, “The company makes it a little more bearable, though.”

Edmund shucked a laugh at the implicit compliment, leaning against the railing as you came to stand next to him, his body tilted to face you, “I’m glad you think so highly of me.”

“Who said I was talking about you?” you asked teasingly, your mouth quirking up to the side. Rather than responding to the playful banter, though, Edmund’s smile dropped, eyes leaving yours to stare out at the gates surrounding the castle instead. You frowned at the lack of reception your comment got, lapsing into the tense silence Pevensie was already partaking in.

“How’s it going with Anthony?” Edmund eventually asked, breaching the stillness.

You groaned at the name, earning a half-hearted chuckle from Edmund as you tried to explain your exasperation, “It’s going well enough. He’s so airheaded, as long as I keep the flattery coming, I’m sure he’d sign anything I ask him to. Even the deed to his kingdom, if I wished so.”

“That’s no surprise,” Edmund said, “I’m sure I’d sign anything if someone like you asked me to.”

You stilled, unsure if he was flirting with you when he added, “That is, if it was possible for anyone to be as bossy as you.”

You punched his shoulder lightly as he grinned at you, his hand coming up to clasp your wrist. The sound of violins fluttered through the flowing curtains, and Edmund looked down at you, raising his eyebrow in a silent question. When you tipped your chin in a silent answer, his hand found your waist as your free hand lifted to rest on his shoulder.

The two of you danced around the balcony floor, Edmund swaying you this way and that, knowing just when to pull his foot away from yours, out of danger in the nick of time. You sent him an apologetic smile each time, knowing the clumsy dancer you were. The only reason you hadn’t tripped over your own feet yet were the dance lessons Edmund had insisted on giving you earlier on, and, more honestly, the solid warmth of his arm, looped around your back, keeping you upright. It felt natural to you, unlike the way your body stiffened when it had been Prince Anthony in front of you, subliminally fighting alongside your instincts.

“You know,” Edmund said as he spun you around easily, “You were supposed to be my date to this dance.”

“Was I?” you asked, scrunching up your nose as you tried to remember.

“Yes,” Edmund assured you, “You promised me, in the library last winter.”

“I was half asleep, Ed,” you chuckled, “I didn’t even respond, forget promise. Besides, you didn’t actually ask me, you know. You assumed.”

“Was I wrong to?” Edmund demanded, “Was it so much of a stretch, considering how much time we spend together, how much we care about each other? Or rather, how much I care about you?”

“What are you trying to say?” you asked, your feet slowing until they eventually reached a stop.

Edmund’s arm pulled away from your waist to hold both of your hands in his, thumbs splaying across your palms.

“I’m saying I hated watching you dance with Anthony, the Prin- the Prick. And I think it should have been me with you instead.”

There. He had done it now. His confession was out in the open, a weight off his chest, and now the ball was in your park. Edmund’s eyes flew wildly over your face, scanning for your reaction, for any response, when your mouth broke into a beaming grin, dazzling with contagious happiness.

“Wow,” you said, smiling so wide the corners of Edmund’s lips upturned, too, an unconscious reaction from looking at you. “Wow,” you said again, hands abandoning Edmund’s to fist into his shirt, “It’s totally not like I’ve waited years to hear that.”

And before the flustered boy could even think about forming words to respond, you tugged him down, close, to meet your waiting lips.

“Pay up,” was the first thing Lucy said when you and Edmund announced your new relationship to his siblings.

You and Edmund exchanged wide-eyed looks as Peter and Susan grumbled, their hands fumbling for their wallets.

“Wait, you guys bet on us?” Edmund asked, astounded.

“Yes,” Susan said primly. Lucy explained it further, “These two didn’t have any faith in you. I was the only one who said you’d confess first.”

“Wow,” Edmund said sarcastically as you laughed, “Betrayed by my own family.”

“Sorry, Ed, but with all the blushing and stuttering, I thought it’d be a miracle if you’d even be able to get out a single word,” Peter explained, earning laughs from all the women in the room.

“Oh!” Susan spoke up suddenly, cutting off her own chuckle, “Wait! Who initiated the first kiss?”

“That would be me,” you said, raising your hand, and winking at Edmund. Lucy and Peter groaned in unison, Peter throwing his entire wallet at Susan in exasperation while Lucy forked over half her treasure.

“You’re joking,” Edmund said, watching the interaction. “What else have you bet on?”

“Lots of things, little brother,” Peter said, leaning over to ruffle Ed’s dark hair. Lowering his voice so he was only audible to Edmund, he continued, “You better be the one to propose. I’ve got a lot of money riding on that one.”

“Don’t worry,” Ed said back in a low voice, watching as you spoke to Lucy and Susan animatedly, mentally capturing the small smile on your face, “I have every intention to.”

1K notes · View notes

heartybubs · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST

hi and welcome to my masterlist. here you’ll find some of my work or links leading you to other masterlists. my requests are open and i’d love it, if you could give me some ideas to put into one shots/ blurbs/ headcannons!

!if you’d like to request something involving a character that i haven’t listed, you can go ahead. if you give me some plot to work with, i might just write about them anyway!

last updated: 01/07/2023

star wars

anakin skywalker

the 100

bellamy blake

change

john murphy

jealousy jealousy

outerbanks

jj maybank

coming soon!

rafe cameron

kiara carrera

the maze runner

thomas

minho

gally

the walking dead

carl grimes

daryl dixon

rosita espinosa

tara chambler

teen wolf

stiles stilinski

isaac lahey

theo raeken

liam dunbar

narnia

edmund pevensie

coming soon!

peter pevensie

83 notes · View notes

dragonroses · 1 year

Text

a wisp in the wind

“My sister has a habit of wandering off. A habit that’s only become more reckless since she discovered Narnia. But, this time, I fear she may have strayed too far from home.”

#narnia edit #narnia fic #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #mr tumnus #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #queen susan the gentle #queen lucy the valiant #ao3 #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #my fics #writing #moodboard #oneshot #fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

swanimagines · 6 months

Text

NARNIA AO3 SERIESES

EVERYTHING FOR NARNIA

Peter Pevensie

Edmund Pevensie

Susan Pevensie (coming)

Caspian

MISC

Preferences

(Any of the other characters don't have any requests written nor pending as for now, so I'm unable to have serieses for them as AO3 requires you to have at least one oneshot written to be able to add it to a series, and I can't promise serieses for characters who don't have requests pending/I have no ideas of my own for them)

For anyone who's concerned, THESE ARE NOT ONESHOT COLLECTIONS, they are made using AO3's "series" feature.

If you want to be informed about new fics for Narnia or its individual characters, create an AO3 account and subscribe or bookmark any of those serieses listed above. There are buttons at the top right corner for those, or on top on mobile. I do not do Tumblr taglists anymore.

Also, if you're wondering, requests are ALWAYS open and you're welcome to leave one or multiple. Just remember to read my rules and pick a request type from this list.

#narnia #narnia x reader #narnia imagine #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie imagine #caspian #caspian x reader #caspian imagine #susan pevensie #susan pevensie x reader #susan pevensie imagine

56 notes · View notes

heliads · 11 months

Note

Headcanons for readjusting to england after spending a lifetime in Narnia with Peter? If you don't want to write for Peter general/platonic headcanons is good too.

anything for the pevensies

masterlist

It’s hard to describe how it felt to show up in England after a lifetime in Narnia

At first, you didn’t think it could be real– this was a dream, perhaps, a nightmare that would torment you briefly before you woke up

After days turned into weeks and you were still small, still plain and ordinary instead of a royal, you had to accept the truth of it eventually

You did your best to find the silver lining of it all, but it’s miserable, obviously– you had everything, everything, and now you have nothing at all

You are a child again, still unable to do half of what you want without adult supervision

It is a good thing, then, that you are not going through this alone

The Pevensies have been your best support, ever since you were small the first time around and snuck into their house overnight so you could travel into the wardrobe with them

You keep in touch with all of them well enough, but you spend most of your time with Peter

You were engaged, actually, in the other world; betrothed after Peter finally got up the courage to ask you the one thing he’d been waiting to hear his whole life

Now that you’re both young again, finally getting the wedding you’d both wanted is out of the question for many more years, but that doesn’t mean you’re willing to abandon him in any way

This is the best part of the reset, you suppose: you get more time with Peter

Both of you had confessed your feelings far too late, scarcely a year or two before you left Narnia

At least this way you get to start from scratch, and love each other for longer than you thought possible

Peter’s secretly relieved that he doesn’t have to follow through with the intricate courting traditions favored in Narnia, although he does put considerable effort into every date

You can study together and watch the sunsets side by side, plan out a new life after you had a trial run of your first already

It is a terrible thing to lose your crowns, yes, but maybe, just maybe– maybe you and Peter can find joy in it after all

narnia tag list: empty for now!

#peter pevensie #peter pevensie imagines #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie oneshot #peter pevensie headcanons #narnia #narnia imagines #narnia x reader #narnia oneshot #narnia headcanons #narnia peter #narnia peter imagines #narnia peter x reader #narnia peter oneshot #narnia peter headcanons

345 notes · View notes

diana-bookfairchild · 2 years

Text

Fanfic Recs

One fanfiction recommendation for each of my fandoms on AO3!

If anyone wants a particular genre (Harry/Hermione, Merthur, Harry is raised by someone else, Percico, God Percy etc.) send me a PM or comment and I'll see if I have something!!

Harry Potter: The Sum of Their Parts by holdmybeer

I literally have no words to describe how incredible this fic is. Dark Lord Harry Potter usually has unreasonable descents into darkness, ridiculously perfect Harrys and breakings of friendships, but this one gives it a whole new twist. Harry as a dark lord in this is VERY believable and his relationships with Ron, Hermione, the other Weasleys and the DA remain as strong as in school and become better in fact. Teddy is adorable and Harry is a wonderful godfather. The struggle with his conscience on what he's doing, Harry's immense magical power, Hermione's in depth knowledge and Ron's advice and strategy and their teamwork, and the technicalities of being a Dark Lord are very well described. Gen, with no focus on relationships. It ends abruptly, and the emphasis on the title itself rather than the deeds of a Dark Lord is a bit weird, but it is AMAZING. Check it out!

2. Marvel Cinematic Universe: Never Odd or Even by memoriaeterna

Are you looking for something to heal you from No Way Home? Or in fact from Endgame, Loki or WandaVision? Featuring BAMF Peter Parker, redeemed Loki, Peter and Loki friendship, Irondad, Stephen and Peter friendship, Wanda and Peter friendship, good!Thanos and Hela (well, sort of, anyway) and time travel, this fic is IT. One of the best fics I've read. Purely gen as well.

3. Merlin: Seeds of Darkness by N16

A realistic Merlin fic beginning from mid-Season 5 that reveals Merlin's magic and has a happy ending? Surely not! What I really loved about this fic was that it didn't follow the 'Prophecies are BS! Arthur learns about Merlin and is immediately horrified about what he's done for 'destiny'' route. Arthur does confront Merlin about this, but it is a consensus that prophecies are something to be wary of, and that destiny IS a very strong force. With a lovely Arthur and Merlin friendship, a wonderful take on Mordred and his relationships with Merlin, Arthur and the knight, a fix of Gwen and Merlin's friendship, Gwaine and Merlin friendship, BAMF Merlin, and a realistic progression of wary-and-slightly-horrified-Arthur-and-knights to them accepting the magic, this fic is one of the BEST. Gen, with Arthur/Gwen.

4. Chronicles of Narnia: Grey England by Alara

This fic is a lovely incomplete piece of how the Pevensies adjusted to being children again and back from Narnia. A very realistic take on how they didn't lose the qualities that had made them the monarchs of the golden age, but retained their childishness and flaws as well. Lucy's struggles at school, the Pevensies' close relationship, the friends of Narnia and Susan's drifting apart are all splendidly done. Gen.

5. The Queen's Gambit: The Slav Defence by Skellypup

This fic is still in the beginning stages, and the first chapters are not very well formatted, but the premise is interesting. Time travel has given Beth an incredible opportunity, and her reconnecting (for her) with Mr. Shaibel, Jolene and Alma, and her struggles with her addiction are very relatable. Gen for now, with tags suggesting Beth/Benny later.

6. Song of Achilles: My Grave; My Heart by fouryearslaterdrabbles (Cheshire Cat Life)

A cute oneshot about Patroclus remaining beside the grave and interacting with gods who are now forgotten. Mostly Gen, but hints of Patrochilles (mostly pining).

7. Miraculous Ladybug: Strings Attached by macaronize

A light soulmates AU. Identity shenanigans, misunderstandings and heartache ensue. The resolution could have been better, but it was definitely a fun read. Marinette/Adrien, side Alya/Nino.

8. Sherlock Holmes (Downey Films): Marriage a trois by Sorrel

Maybe Mary Morstan/John Watson/Sherlock Holmes isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I love the relationship and I ADORE this fic. Both Mary and Sherlock are of course already in love with John, their falling for one another is gradual and believable and everyone's characterization is incredibly on point.

9. The Hunger Games: The First Rebel by Linquist

The first and only OC-centric fic I'll recommend in this list, because Cara and this story are amazing. A brilliant take on an alternate 75th Games involving relatives of victors. Cara is a character with incredible depth, and the other OCs - Kol in particular - strike true as well. This story is complete, with a sequel underway. Meant to be Gale/OC, but Gen until now.

10. Frozen: Chaste as Ice by Karis the Fangirl

Not a particular fandom of mine, but this story is really very good. Kristoff/Anna and their impetuous natures, Kristoff and Elsa's friendship, Kristoff's protectiveness over her and a discussion on the realities of being a female ruler. Just. . . Sweet found family fluff.

11. The Lizzie Bennet Diaries: Hypotheticals by Matril

Fanfiction within fanfiction! Lots of relationship fluff. Ingenious idea of alternate scenarios of what could have happened being discussed by the characters themselves. Lizzie/Darcy.

12. Carmen Sandiego: Saved For Memories by Rueitae

A fic exploring Player and Carmen's friendship. Player is kidnapped by VILE and the faculty's characterization is outstanding. The metaphor used for the rescue is heartbreaking, and it's always nice to see Carmen outsmart the villains! Gen

13. Descendants: you love a pretty girl with a twisted mind by meliebee

Headcanon of a fic detailing the growing up of the Isle kids. Rotten Four as family and BAMF Mal. Gen, with Ben/Mal at the end and slight Uma/Mal and Harry/Mal.

14. Enola Holmes: In Spite of Ourselves by Eienvine

Angst galore! Enola not knowing how to emotion, pining, lovely family moments with Sherlock and Eudoria and a good old kidnapping to resolve it all. Enola/Tewskesbury

15. Kane Chronicles & Percy Jackson: The Death God Alliance by Asilda

I can't recommend this enough!! This series is beautiful. Nico stumbles across the House of Life, gets a god inside his head, nearly sparks an inter-pantheon war and befriends Carter and Sadie. Featuring the big brother Percy we should've gotten. Gen. Later fics feature Percy/Annabeth.

Hope you enjoy the fics!! Reblog and comment!

80 notes · View notes

couragemydearheart · 1 year

Text

— 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 !

☆ request rules:

basic dni criteria is applicable. please be respectful!

all requests to be sfw right now please, i can make it only slightly spicy and suggestive but that's it.

i will be writing fem!reader to not make any mistakes regarding other genders, unless specified otherwise.

i also keep the physical appearance of the reader vague unless requested otherwise, so that all readers are comfortable to read.

limit of 3 characters for headcanons (cuz headcanons are still sorta an unfamiliar territory for me).

please be specific and provide some prompt when requesting, so that i have something to work with.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ what i write:

mostly fluff. angst/slow burn. suggestive themes.

mostly oneshots, drabbles, and headcanons.

spoiler warnings along with other content warnings will be added in the beginning of every work.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ what i don’t write:

character x character.

abo verse because i personally am not a fan of it, and hence don’t know much about it.

dark + heavy themes: incest/pedo/racism/homophobia & the like.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ characters from each fandom i write for:

marvel: steve rogers, bucky barnes, natasha romanoff.

the chronicles of narnia: peter pevensie, edmund pevensie, caspian.

tokyo revengers: ken “draken” ryuguji, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno, keisuke baji, takemichi hanagaki, kazutora hanemiya, kakucho hitto. (pretty sure there are more but i can’t remember them all rn. eh i’ll just add the others when i remember them or get requests)

attack on titan (anime): eren yeager, armin arlert, jean kirstein, connie springer, levi ackerman, reiner braun, porco galliard.

twilight series: jared cameron, paul lahote, embry call, jasper hale, emmett cullen.

avatar (2009 & 2022): neteyam sully, lo’ak sully, jake sully, aonung, rotxo.

acotar series: rhysand, azriel shadowsinger, cassian, lucien vanserra.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

since you’ve read so far, feel free to drop in my inbox to send a request or just say hi! here’s the masterlist!

#☆ rules !#☆ navigation !

6 notes · View notes

electrictorch · 2 years

Text

imagine

you're married to a king of narnia (one of the pevensies) and, during an argument, he points out something you can't stand...

"Oh, so that's how we're gonna do this? Well, let me get this straight for you: you are a king because you were born a man and because you followed your sister into a wardrobe. You survived wars? You have no idea how glad I am because of that. But you do not seem to remember that I'm a queen because of love. I love this country, and, most importantly, I love you. I knew what I was up to when I said 'I do.' If this is the price I pay for loving you, so shall be it. But don't treat me like some foolish girl because you know I am no such thing."

#peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #oneshot #x reader #female reader #random dialogue #fanfic #narnia #chronicles of narnia #my writing

392 notes · View notes

an-angels-fury · 18 days

Text

I am short of breath, standing next to you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summary: 5 things Caspian knows about Peter (+ 1 thing he doesn't)

Inspired by this poem

(Also posted on AO3)

P.S.: Fic's title is taken from the lyrics of the song "Heart" by Sleeping at Last

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. He touches you and you light on fire. Your wrist blazes where his fingers meet your skin. The burns don’t show, but it’s hard to breathe with ash in your lungs. It's so hard to breathe. You’re suffocating daily.

You're shocked when you meet your beloved childhood hero in person and realize he's not at all what you expected. When you blew that magical horn, you didn't imagine the High King would turn out to be an arrogant, hot-headed teenage boy who curiously didn't look any older than you. The two of you are caught by surprise in the forest and end up exchanging blows with your swords. He punches you in the mouth, you knock him down with a kick to the stomach, and then, the fight stops and you both finally have a chance to talk. But, in the end, all you get are sarcastic comments and scornful looks.

You never thought that the first facet you would see of the High King would be his anger. You never thought you would fall victim to his fury and hostility. You also never thought that when you faced him, all you would see is your own image reflected in someone else's soul. It's no wonder that every time he pushes you against the wall, you feel a familiar warmth beneath your clothes. It's a fire so blazing that it penetrates beyond your armor and you swear you can still feel the burns on your neck right where their fingers grabbed you by the collar.

But then, the days pass, you get closer, and the High King's face no longer carries hatred, only guilt, hurt and, somehow, understanding. During this time, you get to know another side of him, a gentle and caring side. But what surprises you most is the presence of fire that remains in his touch even in these moments. You paralyze when the High King rests his hand on your shoulder. Your wrist throbs as he holds your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. You lose your breath and your cheeks become hot and red every time the palm of that hand caresses your face - you even worry if it’s possible to see the mark imprinted on your skin. But you never run away. You never run away because, as lethal as he is, he also makes you stronger.

He is fire, dangerous and mesmerizing. He is wild as a forest fire and calm as a flickering candle flame. He has the power to destroy entire kingdoms until there is nothing left but ruins and to warm poor hearts lost in the midst of loneliness and despair. He is a mix of contradictions and you have never been so intrigued and fascinated by someone's existence in your entire life.

You start to wonder what would happen if he tried to kiss you. Would you melt? Would you suffocate from the smoke blown into your lungs? Would your body turn to ash in his hands? Or would you too become fire itself?

The search for an answer has never sounded so tempting. And you are more than willing to take that risk.

2. It hurts to watch him. He shines. He's brighter than the sun, he’s too beautiful for your eyes. It's hard to look at him. It’s even harder to look away from him. You’re going blind.

He's not handsome in the way you imagined him to be.

You mean, he is handsome - beautiful, actually - but he's something totally different from what you thought you knew. He's not a tall, deep-chested man. Sometimes his sword feels too big and too heavy in his hand, although he can wield it with the dexterity and agility of a general. The bangs of his hair fall awkwardly across his forehead and his features are as pale as porcelain. You fear that one sudden movement will be enough to make the delicate surface of his face crack.

He is beautiful like a shattered mirror - fragile, but still capable of making you bleed -, beautiful like a mosaic - a work of art made up of pieces of the most varied colors and too complex to be understood by shallow minds - and beautiful like a blade sharp - a weapon forged by the glowing embers of war. And, like each of them, he is beautiful because of the way he reflects and spreads light. He is light: heavenly, radiant and giving life to everything around him. His blonde locks are made of sun rays and even his scars are painted gold. He is the eternal light in your life filled with darkness.

He is god, devil and sinner in a single body made of marble and flesh and bone. He is the perfect combination of boy and man, human and divine, and that is what makes him so beautiful in your mortal eyes.

3. Your ears are tuned to his voice. You could pick him out in a sea of thousands. His voice makes pretty singers who sing pretty songs sound dull. His voice makes everything else sound ugly.

The voice of the High King is a force of nature. One word from him is enough to silence an entire crowd. Even the birds interrupt their daily singing just to listen to what their noble ruler has to say.

It doesn't matter how much you disagree with his orders and commands or the need you always feel to contradict him, to tell him he is wrong or mistaken or acting hastily. His wish is the final decision and there is nothing you, a mere orphan prince with no experience when it comes to leadership, can do to change that. And worst of all, you also can't help but feel drawn to his presence every time he opens his mouth. Maybe that's why you always find a reason to fight with him: it's the way you managed to get his attention and listen to him a little more, even if it meant becoming the target of his irritation and disdain.

Amid the chaos of conflict, you hear his battle cry echo reaching beyond the mountains and the western woods and your heart shakes as if struck by lightning. The beat of thunder runs through your veins and you're sure you've never felt as powerful and as brave as you do now. The wait is over: you are awake, at last.

But then, when there is no more fighting, when there are no more enemies to defeat or innocent blood to be shed, he calls you and you remember how to breathe again - oh, you had no idea your name could ever sound so lovely. This time, when the High King asks if you are okay, his voice is as sweet as the melody of a river current, washing your hands and your mind of any trace of death, agony or suffering. It drives away your demons and cleanses your spirit of any kind of fear.

The truth is that not even the most majestic choir of angels compares to the way his voice makes your soul weep.

4. The color of his eyes is blue enough to drown in. He is turning you into a clichéd love-wrecked being. You’re drowning, always sinking. Down, down, down.

His eyes were the first thing that caught your attention when you first met him.

You've never seen a pair of eyes as blue as his. It's a blue so vivid and so intense that you're sure you can see something moving behind the surface of those pupils, as if they were round glass windows that revealed everything he wanted to say, but didn’t. He couldn’t say it because there were no words to describe all the feelings that tormented him, the memories that haunted him and didn't allow him to let his guard down.

You always discover something new every time your eyes meet his, as if you were immersed in an unknown universe and, when you return to reality, you come back transformed. You watch carefully as they take on a different hue according to the state of his emotions, but never completely straying from the old blue. When he finds himself melancholic or contemplative, his eyes turn gray like mist on a cloudy afternoon. When he is angry, they darken until they are almost black, giving off sudden flashes like a stormy night in the middle of the sea. When he is happy, his eyes light up like the morning sky.

You rarely see the High King cry - a king could never afford to show weakness, not when the fate and hope of a nation rested on his shoulders - but on those few occasions, you notice a lone tear run down his cheek, like a drop of dew, before he turns around and covers his face. His sadness is an autumn drizzle: quiet and silent, but no less real. You pretend you don't notice, but you know. You want to go to him and comfort him, tell him everything is okay. You want him to know that he doesn't have to hide in the shadows alone. You want to hold his face in your hands and dry his tears, hoping that that gesture would be enough to chase away his sorrows, even if just for a moment.

You also rarely saw the High King smile, but when he did, the genuineness and sincerity couldn't be more tangible. His eyes reveal the beauty of twilight, where the light of the Sun meets the shine of the stars and, suddenly, everything takes on meaning. His three dear siblings, the most precious people in his life and who give meaning to his entire existence, are the only ones who can bring this magic to light. You just watch them from a distance, dreaming of the desire to be blessed with that cerulean gaze falling over you like crystal waters. But that would never happen. After all, what does a little boy like you mean to a man as magnificent as him?

You look into the eyes of the High King and understand why he was crowned after the clear northern skies. You look him in the eyes and finally understand what love is. You just hope that someday you will be worthy of it.

5. You know him. You love him. Through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him, you’d never leave him. You love him, till death do you part.

Ever since you were little, you've always loved playing games of make believe.

What you loved most about it was imagining scenarios in which you knew the High King from the myths and legends that your tutor told you. You would see him arriving on a white steed, sword in sheath and golden crown on his head, and he would come towards you, smiling and putting his strong arm around your small shoulders, as if he were greeting an old friend. He treated you like you were someone special and you really believed that - you needed to. Then, he would invite you to meet his siblings - the other kings and queens of Narnia - and the two of you would ride off into the sunset to the castle of Cair Paravel. You were happy and free and most of all, loved.

Your story was already written in the constellations. You heard them lulling you with sweet bedtime stories and their words reminded you that you weren't alone. From the first time you looked up to the stars and made a wish, you had hope that better times were coming, that an extraordinary dream awaited you beyond the walls of the castle that had once been your home but now was nothing but a beautifully decorated prison.

Deep down, you always knew this would happen. Your paths were destined to cross. You were destined to fight against each other and then fight side by side. You were destined to find in each other what was missing in yourselves. And that's where the tragedy comes: you were destined to meet, get closer and fall in love, despite the adversities. But not even fate is powerful enough to save you two from the misfortune of your farewell or overcome the cruel inevitability of your parting.

You watch him walk away and, holding the scabbard of the sword he handed you firmly between your fingers, you promise silently, with certainty and determination, that you will find him again one way or another, even if it's the last thing you do. You will pray to the same stars every night to show you the way to the end of the world, where he will be calling to you, inviting you to join him on a new journey. And, even without knowing where this mysterious road will take you, you will take the High King’s hand and, as his devoted and faithful subject, you will follow him without hesitation. You will follow him no matter where he goes because, in the end, all paths lead back to him.

He is your direction. He is your guiding star and you wouldn't change a damn thing about it. You love him and that's all that matters.

( 6. He loves you, too. )

And this is the secret that the High King will never dare say out loud or even admit to himself.

It all started with a strange shiver in his chest when he saw you, as if his heart had suffered some kind of nervous tic, if something like that was possible. It was a new and intriguing and extremely uncomfortable feeling. He had no idea what that was or why it became more and more constant as time went by, but an echoing voice in his mind told him that it had all to do with you. You made his blood boil, his legs tremble and his forehead sweat coldly. You made him feel confused, helpless and, most of all, out of control and he hated that. He hated you and the person he was when you were around... or at least that's what he thought.

Unfortunately, both the flames of love and hate burn hotly. And sometimes, they fight against each other within us to the point that they merge and it is no longer possible to distinguish which is which.

And then he finds you under the spell of the witch, about to resurrect ancient evil to destroy another evil, and his heart fills with dread. He runs up to you, his sword in hand, and knocks you out of the way. He had already paid the price for the lives of his soldiers out of pure pride and selfishness, but he would not allow you to condemn yourself and all of Narnia. He wouldn't lose you too.

But he almost falls into the same trap. He almost gives in to the desire for revenge, the thirst for blood, until the ice wall shatters and all that's left is disappointment and frozen splinters at his feet. You two are left alone with your sins and, when you look at each other, suddenly everything becomes clear. In the end, you are not as different as he imagined. You both already knew grief and the terrible emptiness that comes with it. You both know how painful the burden is of carrying all the weight of the world, along with its expectations, on your shoulders and trying hard every day not to let yourself be shaken by the fear of failure. But now, all that's left for you is to learn to trust each other and, who knows, try to find some comfort in this still unstable connection.

You still don't understand exactly how the alliance between you and the High King turned into something more, and the truth is that neither does he. You don't notice the way his eyes light up when he finds you in the crowd, always admiring you when you're not paying attention. You don't see the pride in the small smile that forms on his lips when the Great Lion crowns you as the new ruler of Narnia. You don't know that the High King can't even imagine someone with a kinder heart and a purer soul than you to take the throne that once belonged to him. You also don't know that you've given him a new reason to keep fighting beyond the call of duty. You gave him the most valuable gift any tired soldier could ever wish for: peace and security in a lifetime of war.

But your love is not that of a fairy tale. And you only become aware of this when he turns his back and goes through the magical portal in the tree along with his siblings, his form, always elegant and imposing, melting into the air. You feel something break inside your rib cage, a wound that will never heal, a scar that will never fade as long as you live. And pain will be the only proof that he was ever real.

This is not an epic story that will be told by poets and young lovers through the centuries, but just a wasted opportunity that will soon be lost in the privacy of your dreams and illusions. You will live the rest of your lives looking back, hoping to find the world of possibilities that you two were forced to leave behind, but all you will hear is the lament of the wind blowing in your ears:

"What if…"

And despite being worlds apart, the two of you will whisper back in unison:

“Maybe in another life.”

8 notes · View notes