A Prison of Ice and Fear || Peter Pevensie x OC || Narnia

Chapter 30

The palace is quiet this early. The sun only just beginning to crest the horizon. Since the morning after the great battle I've been waking to watch the sunrise. Feeling the fledgling rays charge my magic. Leaning over the stone edge of the balcony the salty sea air ruffles my unbound hair and fills my nose with its familiar scent.

It smells like home, the land of my ancestors. I never thought I would smell the salt again, never thought I would feel this connected again.

I hear steps behind me, trying to be soft and silent but failing. I feel my mouth pull up in the corners, a small smile spreading across my face.

Peter leans against the edge of the balcony next to me, gazing out at the ocean.

I let my gaze slide to his and take in his features. His eyes are so piercing in the early morning light, and his hair appears gilded. The cut at the edge of his brow is healing nicely, turned into a dark coloured scab. Perhaps it'll scar, perhaps not.

The cut I received from the hag will most definitely scar. Lucy offered some healing cordial, but I declined. I never want to forget.

"You're up early." Peter says softly.

"As are you, you're majesty." I answer.

"I thought we had a deal, Princess Cressida." He chuckles, looking sidelong at me.

I nudge his shoulder gently with mine.

"Nervous?" I ask.

"Who me?" He laughs. "Of course I am."

"You'll make a great King, Peter; you've already proven that ten-fold."

"I'm just a boy from Finchley."

"And I'm just a girl from a faraway land."

"You were born a Princess."

"And you are the prophesied King; everything happens for a reason, Peter." I offer gently.

He places a warm hand over mine, rubbing his thumb softly against the back of my hand.

"What will you do now it's all over?"

"Aslan has sent word to my people; my brothers may already be on their way."

"Will you leave with them?" He asks quietly.

"I don't know," I say softly. "I am half Narnian, making you my king; you could decide for me."

"I could never tell you what to do. You've suffered that enough."

"Peter, whatever...whatever this is...you're about to be King. You can't afford distractions now."

"You're not just some meaningless distraction."

"I want to stay..."

"Then stay. You'll be valuable council for us."

"I'll think about it, but Peter, we should put whatever is between us aside."

He looks dejected.

"For now. Give yourself some time to settle into your role, and we'll figure it out from there."

"I understand."

I turn and cup his check. His skin is so warm beneath my fingers and his eyes are so full of longing.

Gently, reverently I press my lips to his, only for a moment before pulling away.

His eyes soften, and he traces a finger lightly down the cut on my face, stitches holding together the split skin.