2 | Million Words • Peter Pevensie

four

004 | ❝You look sad❞

♚♚♚

SERENA

At first, I told myself it was nothing.

Peter had always been busy maps sprawled across his desk, generals asking for his opinion, parchment stacked high with reports. I knew the crown demanded a lot. Still, it felt different now. Before, no matter how many duties pulled at him, he always carved a piece of time for us. A ride at dawn. A quiet supper together. Even just a glance across the council table that said I see you.

But now... now the glances slipped past me. The invitations were fewer, the excuses many.

One morning I came to his chambers with a tray of breakfast, as I often had. He was at his desk already, quill scratching furiously. He looked up, startled, as if I had interrupted something forbidden.

"I thought we could eat together," I said softly, setting the tray down.

"Thank you, but—I should finish these reports before council," he said, eyes darting back to the parchment.

I forced a smile and sat across from him, nibbling on fruit while he worked. For every bite I took, his quill made another furious stroke. We ate in silence. By the time I rose to leave, I wasn't sure if he even noticed I had gone.

Lucy was the first to notice.

"You look sad," she said one afternoon, plopping beside me in the gardens while I tried to weave flower crowns.

"I'm fine," I lied, twirling a daisy between my fingers.

Her blue eyes narrowed—far too perceptive for her years. "Is it Peter?"

The flower crown slipped from my lap. I picked it up again quickly, brushing off the dirt. "He's just... busy."

Lucy tilted her head. "He's always been busy. That never stopped him before."

Her words pricked something deep inside me, though I tried to smile. "You worry too much, Lu."

But as she leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder, I knew she was right.

♚♚♚

By the end of the week, the ache in my chest had grown sharper. It wasn't only the missed breakfasts, or the late nights locked away in his study. It was the way he seemed to hesitate before touching me, as though my hand were fire, he might burn himself on. It was the way his smile faltered just before it reached his eyes.

And worst of all, it was the silence. Peter had always been open with me, even when the weight of the crown pressed hard on his shoulders. We had shared everything—hopes, fears, foolish laughter that echoed across the shore. But now he spoke in clipped tones, his voice measured and distant.

Had I done something wrong? Had I pushed too hard? Or—dread gripped me—had he grown tired of me?

Four years we had been side by side. Four years of battles and laughter and love. Surely that wasn't so fragile it could crumble in a handful of days.

But the doubt gnawed anyway.

That evening, I gathered my courage. When I found Peter in the library, hunched over a stack of scrolls, I laid my hand gently on his arm.

"Peter," I said, searching his face. "Have I done something to upset you?"

He blinked up at me, startled. For a moment, the old warmth flashed in his eyes—the boy I knew, not just the king. But just as quickly, he looked away.

"Of course not," he said too quickly, shaking his head. "You've done nothing wrong. I only... I only need to be more serious about my duties. That's all."

The words were meant to soothe, but they left me colder than before.

I withdrew my hand, folding it against my chest. "If that's what you need," I murmured, though inside I wanted to cry.

He gave me a faint smile, already turning back to his work.

And for the first time since I had known him, I left the room feeling like a stranger.

I didn't go back to my chambers. Instead, my steps carried me down the west wing where the moonlight spilled through high windows. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand.

I found Ivory in the music room, her fingers gliding lightly across the harp strings. She looked up when I entered, blonde hair catching the candlelight.

"Serena?" she asked softly, setting her hands still on the strings. "You look... upset."

The words undid me. I sank onto the bench beside her, pressing a hand over my face. "It's Peter. He's—different lately. Distant. I keep wondering if I've done something wrong."

Ivory's expression softened, and she reached to squeeze my hand. "You haven't. Believe me, I know that feeling."

I looked at her sharply. "With Edmund?"

She nodded. "Susan pulled him aside last week. Said our relationship was distracting him. Said that if he wasn't careful, he'd put Narnia at risk." Her voice shook slightly, though her eyes were steady. "For a moment, I thought he might start to believe her."

My stomach twisted. "And did he?"

A small, almost mischievous smile touched her lips. "Not for a second. He told Susan to stop meddling in our lives—that who he loved was his choice, not hers. He was furious."

I blinked, my throat tightening. "So... she spoke to Peter too."

"It sounds like it," Ivory said carefully. "And unlike Edmund... Peter must have taken her words to heart."

A hot rush of anger and hurt swirled inside me. Of course, Peter would be the one to carry the burden of duty heavier than anyone else. Of course, he'd sacrifice the one thing that made him smile so freely.

"She thinks love makes us weak," I whispered.

Ivory shook her head firmly. "She's wrong. Love is what makes us strong. But Susan... she's afraid. With whispers of my mother still lingering in the dark, she thinks any sign of vulnerability will invite ruin."

The mention of Jadis sent a chill racing down my spine. Even long gone, the Witch's name carried weight like a curse.

"Maybe she's already convinced Peter of that," I murmured. "Maybe that's why he's pulling away."

Ivory's grip on my hand tightened. "Then we can't let her be right. We'll remind them—and remind ourselves—that love isn't a weakness. It's what kept Narnia alive in the first place."

Her words steadied me, though the ache in my chest remained. Still, I was grateful for her—grateful that I wasn't alone in this battle. As we sat together in the dim glow of candlelight, I silently vowed that no matter how distant Peter became, I would not let Susan's fears decide our fate. Because I knew, as surely as the stars shone above Cair Paravel, that Peter and I belonged together. And I would fight for that truth—no matter the cost.