MILLION WORDS | ❝There's a million words I should've said, I remember you were standing in my doorway and the words were on my lips, that you never looked so beautiful. Oh just to be near you, don't you know how good that feels? These are all the th...
003 \ ❝you're the High King. Your duty is to Narnia ❞
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PETER
The throne room had begun to empty after the petitions. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were bustling Lucy away with cheerful conversation, Edmund and Ivory were whispering together, and even the air itself felt lighter without the weight of so many citizens' needs pressing against my shoulders.
For a moment, I let myself look toward Serena. She had remained seated gracefully upon her throne, golden eyes catching mine, a soft smile playing at her lips. Just that one look steadied me. No matter the endless duties of ruling, no matter the battles we had already fought Serena reminded me why it was all worth it.
But the moment was cut short.
"Peter," Susan said sharply from the far side of the dais.
Her tone left no room for argument. I pushed myself up from my throne, forcing a small smile toward Serena before following my sister out into the corridor.
The doors shut behind us with a heavy thud, leaving us in the long marble hallway, sunlight pouring in through tall windows. Susan turned on me immediately, arms folded.
"What was that about?" I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "You looked as though you'd swallowed a lemon all morning."
"This isn't about me," Susan said briskly. "It's about you. And Serena."
I stilled. "What about her?"
Susan's gaze was sharp, though not unkind. "Peter, you're the High King. Your duty is to Narnia above all else. Yet every time I turn around, you and Serena are off together, vanishing into the woods, returning soaked from some mischief, or smiling as though nothing else matters. Do you realize how it looks to the people? To the court?"
I let out a breath, running a hand through my damp hair. "Susan, Serena doesn't make me weak. She strengthens me. You don't see it, but she grounds me. Reminds me what we're here to protect."
Susan's lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe so. But appearances matter. If the Narnians think their High King puts a girl above his crown, their faith in you—and in all of us—will waver. That cannot happen, Peter. Not now. Not ever."
The words stung, though I tried not to show it. Susan had always been practical, cautious, endlessly concerned with what others saw. But this time, her warning burrowed deep, because she had touched the one truth I had been hiding.
I wanted Serena to be more than the girl who steadied me, more than my queen in title only. I had been planning, waiting for the right moment, the perfect words. I wanted to ask her to be my wife. To bind our lives together fully, not just in stolen moments by the pond or glances across the throne room.
But what if Susan was right? What if declaring my love openly endangered everything we had built?
"I'll be careful," I said finally, my voice tight.
Susan studied me for a heartbeat longer, then nodded. "That's all I ask." She turned back toward the throne room, her steps light but her words heavy on my chest.
I lingered in the corridor, staring out the tall window at the rolling sea beyond Cair Paravel. My reflection in the glass looked weary—too weary for my years.
Was it selfish of me to want Serena for myself, even when I already carried the crown? Or was it selfish of Susan to demand I put aside the one person who gave me strength?
Duty. Love. Crown. Heart. They all pulled at me, each demanding to be first.
When I finally returned to the throne room, Serena was waiting near the dais. Her smile lit up as soon as she saw me, and just like that, the knot in my chest loosened.
"Are you all right?" she asked softly, reaching out for my hand.
I hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before threading my fingers through hers. Her touch was warm, reassuring, and yet Susan's words echoed in my ears like a warning bell.
I managed a smile. "Of course."
But deep down, a shadow of doubt had begun to form.
That night, when Serena suggested we sneak down to the cove for a walk beneath the stars, I told her I had reports from the northern borders to review. Her lips curved into a pout for just a moment before she caught herself, smoothing it away with a smile. "Another time then."
Another time. But when "another time" came—a ride through the orchards, a morning of archery practice, breakfast together—I found other excuses. Paperwork. Maps. Training. Anything that sounded like a king's duty.
The truth was, I missed her even as I kept her at arm's length. I longed for her laughter, for the ease of her presence. But I could still hear Susan's warning, clear as day: If the Narnians begin to believe their High King puts a girl above his crown...
I told myself it was only temporary. Just enough distance to prove to everyone—including myself—that I could be the king Narnia needed first and Serena's in my heart second.
But as the days stretched on, I began to see the faint hurt in Serena's eyes whenever I turned her away. The way her smile didn't quite reach her gaze. The way her words faltered, as if she was searching for the place she once held so securely at my side.
And each time I pulled back, something inside me cracked.
Still, I reminded myself, this was what it meant to wear the crown. Sacrifice. Restraint. Choosing the harder path, even when it tore at the heart.
