Narnia Preferences and Imagines

○Peter~VI○

Somewhere Only We Know

Your finger was busy tracing the railing of the boat, your chin in your hand, watching Aslan's country approach. This was where they would get off. You had a feeling they already knew that they wouldn't be coming back. Perhaps Lucy doesn't know, but Edmund surely does and you can tell he's relishing his last moments with Caspian, Reep, the crew, and you. Peter had asked him to look after you when he got the chance to return and he doesn't want to let his brother down.

He'd offered to take letters for Peter back with him, knowing you'd been writing some, but upon the question of how he got there, he realized that maybe wasn't the best idea.

Peter was your best friend. Your best friend who became your boyfriend, who because your fiancé, who became your husband and then disappeared. You had faint hope they would return and when they did you were ecstatic, expecting another golden age to come about.

Instead, following Caspian's coronation, he left. You know he didn't do it easily, you could see the sorrow in his eyes and felt his aching even so far away as in another world. He is gone, but you are still connected and you know he can feel your anguish just as well as you feel his.

"Y/n?" You barely incline your head to the speaker. "It's time."

Wordlessly, you follow Caspian to the boat waiting to take you to the shore. You sit next to Lucy, Edmund and Caspian across from you, and Reep by your side, a frown on your face. Perhaps the only person in existence to be sad this close to Aslan's country.

You barely participate in the conversation.

With a sigh you take Edmund's offered hand, stepping into the warm sand. "Y/n," a deep voice calls, you turn, finding Aslan standing a short distance away. You must have been the only one who heard him, for Lucy is still distracted by the scenery around her.

"Aslan," you reply, taking a few steps toward him, drawn towards his figure.

"Do you want to go?"

"What?" You ask, having a faint idea what he means, but the prospect was so narrow in your mind you can't help but question.

"I can send you to England. To the Professor's house where Peter is. But you must be prepared to stay there." You can't help but smile at him, eagerly accepting his offer.

"Yes, please!" Everything changed since the Pevensies left. You watched your friends from the golden age pass on, you've faded out of popularity, you're no longer regarded in the same esteem you once were, and you can't bear to go on without Peter in this same state. Friendless - for the fear of them inevitably leaving - unhappy, and Peterless.

Aslan smiles. "Come then," he approaches the Pevensie's with you in tow. Throughout their interaction you can't help your smile. Lucy practically drags you towards the lumbering wave after you say your goodbyes to Aslan and Caspian.

You take in a breath, squeezing Lucy's hand, and then you are swimming upwards. Desperately kicking, pushing the water down and yourself upward. Up towards a beacon of light, up towards where Peter will be. And then you're sitting on a front porch, completely dry. Behind you is a large house, definitely not Narnian.

The lush green grass of a country side spreads out before you. The air tastes different, but you breathe it in just the same. You notice your skirt is shorter, your shirt is more comfortable, and your shoes aren't nearly so prohibiting.

Using the well manicured railing to your left, you slowly stand, brushing the dirt off your new clothes as you would other times. In the silence, you hear the chirping of birds, the gentle rush of a fountain, and somewhere in the distance the snort of a horse. Presently you wonder if you were sent to the wrong place for it feels just as serene as Narnia.

You square your shoulders, approaching the wooden doors with disguised confidence. With a shaking hand, you ring the doorbell. An older woman cracks it open just enough you can see her small frame and not much more of the house beyond.

"Yes?"

"Um, I'm here to see Peter Pevensie." You reply, clasping your hands behind your back. "Is he here?"
You ask after she's silent for a long moment.

"Yes," she opens the door fully, inviting you inside with her inquisitive eyes.

You follow her up a staircase that splits halfway one going to the left, one to the right. A figure sits on a pedestal in the center, beckoning your hand towards. "Ahum," you look over at the woman, whose arms are resting on her hips. "No touching of the historical artifacts." You mumble an apology, shoving your hands in the pockets of your skirt you just realize you have.

With every step down the dark hallways your insides churn more and more. What if he doesn't remember you? What if he doesn't like that you're here? What if he tries to send you away? Where are you going to go? "Here you are, dear." You startle, giving her a questioning look. "Go on, knock," she encourages, turning to go back down the hallway.

Once she's out of sight, you raise your fist, rapping lightly on the door before you can chicken out. "Just a second!" You blush at the sound of his voice, imagining the way he hurries to finish what he's doing, simultaneously brushing a hand through his hair. You hear his feet padding towards the door and hurriedly brush invisible dust of your clothes, trying to make yourself more presentable. Before you can lose your nerve and hide somewhere because of the absence of a mirror the door opens.

There he is, in his aged up, kingly, glory. His hair is a mess - as always. His eyes a clear, bright blue. His clothes are different, but definitely suit him.

"Hi," you say softly, waving timidly at him.

"Y/n?" He asks, his hand, that was still resting on the door knob in surprise, reaches out to touch your hand.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here," his hand brushes against yours to make sure you're real and, with a jubilant cry, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping himself around you.

"I can't believe you're here," he whispers, burying his head in your neck to drink up your scent, hugging you as if he feels you'll slip away at any moment. You smile, your eyes drifting shut as you rest your head against his firm chest, your body relaxing at the familiar scent.

"And I'm here forever," Peter grins against your skin, no doubt as happy as you are. He pulls his head back, letting his lips descend on yours in a passionate kiss. The woman from earlier, who'd come back to see today's spectacle, lets out a little laugh, followed by that of a male.

"Golly," Peter whispers when he finally pulls away. Which you take is a response to the kiss and to the prying eyes. "They're as bad as my siblings." He mutters to you, giving them a side glance. If you'll excuse us," he announces to the crowd of two, guiding you through the door of his study and into the privacy it offers.

(I'm sorry about the passionately thing- it won't happen again)