₁.₀ YES TO HEAVEN; peter pevensie ✔

017.

It took Peter a few years to gain this... this kind of confidence about himself. To be sure about his decisions and actions always seemed like a requirement, being an eldest sibling and all that, yet it became truly mandatory the moment a crown was placed upon his head. He had to learn how to navigate that new role of his, for the coldness of the metal reminds him that the number of lives placed in his care had grown from merely four - five, if he was to count his own as well - to tens of thousands.

Everyone tells him he had done a good job so far, both those surrounding him at the palace and those he meets while travelling through the lands. At first, Peter used to grasp onto those kind words of affirmation and encouragement like a man starved would onto crumbs of bread, but now he can say he believes them. He does, truly.

He is a good king. A worthy one.

With Birdie, however, it feels like a sinusoidal wave, always going up and up one night and crashing down the next. And it's not his feelings for her that he doubts - those remain as solid and steady as his pulse is not each time he finds himself in her presence, or even thinking about her - but rather whether it is all good for her, beneficial.

Over time, they have discovered that Birdie was no longer confined to the royal gardens, and Peter felt excitement run through his veins as though he was a child again, leading her both through narrow corridors and vast halls, eager to show her all his favourite places at Cair Paravel. He wished she could see the castle bustling with life: people, voices, smells, but he had to settle on describing it all to her as best he could. And she listened, of course, always so very keen on learning something new, even though the gardens remained their favoured place to spend time in. He remembers now how he had to mind his steps as his emotions caused them to lengthen so much for Birdie to have trouble keeping up; but still, he refused to even acknowledge the possibility of letting go of her hand.

Still, Peter has a life to return to, he always had.

Sometimes he finds himself strangely grateful that he never knows when exactly he shall be torn away from Birdie's side, because, while the anticipation is always on the back of his mind, it means he has to take great care to treasure each single moment. One second they are walking hand in hand, picking strawberries and basking in warm sunlight, and then he blinks and opens his eyes to see the confines of his own bedchamber, the sweet taste of fruit still on his tongue. And he's alone, no matter how many times does he wish and imagine turning his head to see dark curls splayed on the pillow next to him, his bed knows no body heat except for his own.

But he does go on about his day, because that is what it means to be king. He dresses himself - at first, the staff used to be horrified by his disregard for the whole dressing ceremony, saying, behind his back, that he would surely change his mind soon enough, once he grows accustomed to that new role of his; but his will never faltered in this particular matter - and eats, and reads letters, and writes letters, and receives foreign dignitaries, and - but only when he has to - leaves the castle to see to it that no malevolent forces arise in the kingdom, and... The list of a king's duties is a long one. Peter is lucky, he knows, to be able to share most of the burden with his siblings. And, while he must admit that he used to imagine it at first, giving it all up (leaving it in their capable hands, he would usually call it in those moments, in order to ease some of the guilt), he never truly considered not being a king. There was a time, before the Witch was defeated, that he must have been someone else, but he doesn't remember that person now.

Although, with time, it begins to feel as though his true life was that in the dreaming; the roles of the waking world and the dream not only overlapping, but slowly and irrevocably swapping places.