The story of the sleeping beauty has been told time after a time. A beautiful princess cursed to sleep forever. A handsome brave prince that rescues her. A true love's kiss that wakes her up. It's a story as old as time, known in nearly every singl...
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Peter Pevensie was responsible and diligent. He had to be, he was the older brother. Even before the war, he had responsibilities to attend to. Money was tight in the Pevensie household, which meant that both of his parents had to work. For Peter that meant helping out with his siblings whenever he could. His first memories were helping Susan learn how to read (and boy did she quickly catched up with him), teaching Edmund how to play football, and checking under Lucy's bed whenever she was afraid of the monsters. He didn't mind at all; his mother's tired smiles after her shifts and his father's proud pats on the back were all the reward needed.
Now with the war, Peter's role was further expanded. Instead of just being there as a guide or extra help, he had full on taken on the role of parent. He was the emotional support, listened to Susan's worried musings, and offer words of affirmation. He had to discipline his siblings whenever arguments happened, mostly Edmund who had taken on the habit of lashing out. He had to be a nurturer, Lucy was still young and needed to learn some lessons. But most of all he had to protect them because that's what a father did. All in all, it was a lot of weight for a sixteen-year-old boy.
He never had the chance to go out to parties, try for the football team or go out on dates because he was busy being a pseudo-parent to his siblings. Everyone at school in Finchley knew better than to try to bring him out of his shell, he was always the kid that rejected invitations so after a while they stopped trying. And though he never complained about it, he did wonder what it felt like to be just like the others.
So yes, Peter Pevensie was responsible and diligent but now he had a whole new responsibility added to his shoulders. He was supposed to be the king of the magical land his sister found in the wardrobe. If he was anyone else, he'd probably feel flattered. But mind you he was the kid who had to parent and protect three other kids on daily basis. And he was also the kid that failed to parent said kids with flying colors; Edmund was living proof. If ... well not if, when he failed as king he was sure his self-esteem will never recover.
And that was some of the reasons why he was dreading meeting Aslan. He was sure the Lion wanted to discuss his new position as king. What a joke. He had spent three minutes in his tent pacing before finally composing himself enough for his meeting.
He stepped out of the tent and the first thing he saw was Rory Browning wilding her sword accompanied by a dryad who seemed to be whispering instructions on how to use her weapon. Peter couldn't help but smile.
To everyone else, Peter was someone. The older brother, the Golden son (as Edmund maliciously reminded him), was the antisocial kid and now he was a future king. But to Rory, Peter was just a boy. And he loved her for it, loved it.
Rory was a living contradiction. She was funny, witty, and playful. A free spirit if you will. But she was also wise beyond her years. She noticed things people usually dismissed and offered a unique point of view. Rory was also bravely shy. She could face a bunch of mythological creatures without batting an eye but was terrified of Mrs. Macready and even more scared of disappointing her aunts. Peter had now concluded that Rory Browning was like the music she loved so much. Just when you think you know where the song is going, there's an unexpected crescendo or the song jumps into the octave. Rory was music and if he was lucky, he would spend the rest of his life listening to her.
