#amrut writes about narnia

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Peter, fifteen and fresh out of a bloody and brutal war, sneaking out of Cair Paravel in the middle of the night and going to the river, sticking his head into ice-cold water to shock himself out of a nightmare riddled sleep. Narnia won, but at what cost?

Peter, lying in Susan's bed with his fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her skirts, dried tear tracks on his face and Susan singing quietly in an effort to comfort him. Her fingers pick apart the strands of his hair and he falls asleep only to wake up an hour later with screams on his lips.

Peter, wrapping his arms around an Edmund who has returned from war and murmuring frantic thanks to the Gods for keeping him alive. He presses kisses on Edmund's forehead, cheeks, nose and eyelids, and considers the idea of never letting any of his siblings out of his sight ever again.

Peter, sitting on the High King's throne at the age of thirteen and wondering if he is worthy of this, if he deserves this, if he is capable of this. He is thirteen and barely knows anything about anything and he is High King who should know everything about everything is he worthy is he deserving is he capable he does not know—

Peter, in Lucy's room sitting on the floor with his back pressed to her bed, allowing her to braid flowers into his hair as he stares at the wall. The Victory Parade is in a few hours, but they lost many soldiers and people and Peter has lost sleep and sanity and good friends. Narnia has won but Peter has lost.

Peter, carrying a candle to the Castle Library at two in the morning and pulling out a book about children's fables. He cannot sleep, might as well distract himself. The candle dies down and the sun comes up, and Peter drags himself back to his quarters to get ready.

Peter, who locks himself in his chambers and does not come out for days and days, who refuses food and drink and buries himself under his blankets and stares out the window with blank eyes and slack eyebrows, who does not speak and does not cry and pushes his face into his pillow and screams for the nightmares to go away please I'll do better I just want to sleep please stop please—

Peter, who wants peace and contentment, but cannot help but go to war. Peter, who is quiet and introspective but needs to be loud and abrasive because he is High King. Peter, who wishes he could put down the sword that he wields as easily as he breathes.

Peter, who desires peace, but becomes a God of War

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

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I've seen so many people say "Susan is the mum", "Susan is the mother figure", "Susan is motherly" AS IF PETER MOTHERFUCKING PEVENSIE ISNT RIGHT THERE

Have you seen that boy? He is the Mum of the four. He is the mother figure. He is the Mother Hen. He has Eldest Daughter Syndrome™ and as an eldest child myself I CAN ATTEST TO IT. Look me in the eyes and tell me I am wrong. I dare you.

Susan gets her cheek kissed against her will and he has a dagger at the offender's neck. Susan, who has her own dagger out, rolls her eyes and glares at him until he sulks away with a pout scowl.

Edmund gets wounded in battle and Peter shoves all his duties onto the girls' shoulders, spending day and night at his little brother's side, wiping his forehead and dressing his wounds and pressing kisses to his brow every other minute.

Lucy latches onto his back and he doesn't say a word, simply carries on with his royal duties and ignores the looks he gets from the courtiers and lords. She spends the entire day hanging off his back, and he occasionally reminds her that "I do need to breathe, Lu, loosen your arms a little."

Any one of them turns to him with wide eyes and their bottom lip stuck out, and my guy cannot deny them. He just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. They can have whatever they want as long as they stop making that face at him, please, for the love of Aslan.

All three of them keep calling him Mama Bear. He cannot get them to stop. Random Narnian children are picking up the habit now, because of them.

He's tired. Exhausted. And annoyed, oh Great Lion, so annoyed.

He loves his siblings but they are exhausting, and he wants to sleep without one of them causing a mess. He just wants one night when he can actually sleep through the night.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

High King Peter is Magnificent.

They say that his hair is spun from the purest gold from the holy lands of the Emperor Beyond the Sea, that his eyes are a brighter, more potent blue than any sapphire ever mined and polished, that his lips are soft and pink like the first rosebud of True Spring. They whisper of the ribbons and flowers woven into his hair and the delicate golden crown on an equally golden head, of the gentle smiles that curl over his plush lips and the crinkles around his eyes when he laughs loud and joyful.

They talk of his beauty in reverent tones, sing praises and erect shrines to honour him, and they call him Magnificent.

They don't speak of how the roses and ribbons in his hair are the exact colour of spilled blood, dark red like the paint he smears across his eyes when riding to war. They don't speak of how his gaze carries the weight of the Great Ocean— a vast, open, endless sea that swallows everything in its path, ruthless and without mercy. They don't speak of how his lips are bitten and chapped, curved up into smiles that should appear soft but are more a baring of sharp fangs teeth than anything else. They don't speak of his battle cries, loud enough to make the very earth beneath their feet tremble.

They deliberately don't speak of how Beauty is sometimes described as Terrifying, how Angels are feared by all that lay eyes upon them, about how Celestials are the farthest from Human one can get without losing the human form.

Long Live High King Peter the Magnificent, God amongst Mortals.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

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Peter used to be the tallest of the four, until Susan turned fourteen and shot up to six feet— one inch taller than him. It earned him weeks of teasing from his three little shits until he hit sixteen and and shot up half a foot, reaching an astounding six feet four inches. This was in the middle of a campaign against the Raiders of Korentha, and even he did not realise he had grown until he returned home from war and suddenly he had to tilt his head down to look at Susan. Susan sulked for days, and was only appeased when Peter gifted her a beautiful pair of high heels. Peter likes being tall, even though he's not as tall as a Centaur— Susan likes his bear hugs, and he gets to make fun of the younger ones for being tiny squirts. Lucy regularly climbs him like a jungle gym until she hits her own growth spurt.

Susan cut an imposing figure at 15, with wide shoulders and a slender torso, standing at an impressive 6 feet even without her famous heels. She hated it at first— girls from England were short, much shorter than her, and so were many of the men. She always felt a little self conscious in a crowd because of how she towered over the average human. In Narnia, however, it was different. Druids and Naiads and Dryads regularly reached six feet, and centaurs were rarely shorter than seven. Fauns were short, but Bears stood on their hind legs and towered over her only to hand out the warmest hugs Susan had ever experienced apart from Peter's. Secretly though, no matter how much she teased Peter about being shorter than her, she was glad when he grew taller than her. (His hugs aren't as comforting if you're taller than him, alright?)

Halfway through Edmund's fifteenth year of existence, he was both shocked and pleased to find out he did not need to tilt his head back to look at Peter anymore. Peter was 18 and a giant, bear-like warrior king, his furs and long braids and armour making him look even larger, and Edmund was a lanky teenager with remnants of baby fat still on his cheeks and wiry muscle wrapped around thin bones— both of them were the same height, but Edmund looked boyish where Peter looked manly. It took him till he was in his early twenties to match Peter's bulk, but he stayed as tall as Peter for the rest of his life, not an inch here or there. (and Peter thanks the Fates for that. He doesnt know if he could withstand the amount of heckling that would come with being shorter than his brother.)

Lucy was the shortest of them her entire life. Until she was 14, she was about 5ft 4 inches, at which point she started growing like a weed and stopped at the very admirable height of five feet ten inches— just two inches short of Susan's height. It infuriated her to no end; being shorter than everyone was annoying, and even more so when you weren't actually short at all, just shorter than your siblings. At 5'10, she towered over many Narnian species as well as her classmates when she returned to England and went through puberty a second time, but she loved it. She loved being taller, loved that she was only shorter than her siblings— they may annoy her by teasing her about their heights, but being smaller meant the hugs were better, and really, why would she give up on a chance to climb Peter like a monkey so she could sit on his shoulders? No, Su, she doesn't care that it looks uncouth.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Narnia Headcanons

Queen Lucy the Valiant

Did not experience falling in love, and did not feel attracted enough to anybody to go for a casual relationship. She did pester Edmund about being in a relationship and drove him to madness— he already hated the number of suitors Susan had and thinking of people asking for Lucy made him fume even more. She took great amusement in riling him up with imaginary situations.

In Narnia, she was called Lucy the Lionheart, the Fanged Queen, the Merry Child, Queen Lucy the Healer, Lover of the People and more. She was known to be a happy person, always with a smile on her face, but also to be a lethal force in battle. She earned the name the Fanged Queen for her daggers— they were like a Lion's fangs in her skilled hands; fast, razor sharp and deadly.

Outside Narnia, she was known for her childlike smiles and her battle madness— the Child Queen, the Mad Queen, the Wild Child, Lucy the War Hungry, Bloody Lucy, the Merry Murderer and such terrifying titles. It was quite a shock for everyone who had heard her titles before meeting her, for she was nothing other than a little girl with the sweetest smile and the softest voice. Until, that is, the time for war came.

Peter's right hand when it came to battle strategy. Initially, it had been Edmund that had helped Peter, but as Lucy grew older they found she had a penchant for war, and Edmund immediately handed over the responsibilities to her to focus on the judiciary. People learnt very soon not to underestimate the 13 year old with dual daggers— she was as savage and deadly as a lion, and was not afraid to spill blood. Indeed, she was known to laugh as she killed on the battlefield.

Was the Spymaster of the espionage ring, and was extremely competent at it. She employed and trained unlikely creatures that would fly under the radar— Mice and Birds for their ability to appear dumb, Satyrs for their unassuming demeanor, Snakes for their stealth, and other small animals. It was the most successful spy organisation ever seen on the mainland.

Kept her hair short compared to the others. Went just below her shoulders, and had dozens of tiny braids following Peter's tradition. She braided white jasmines into her hair every morning for their smell, earning her the title the Crimson Jasmine after too many instances of the white flowers being drenched in her enemies' blood. When they fell out of Narnia, she had an impressive fifty-four braids— the highest out of all siblings.

Hated studying. Absolutely did not like to sit in one place poring over books for hours on end. She would rather be outside with the dryads and the satyrs, tracking the dumb animals through the forests on hunting expeditions.

Her favourite subjects were Strategy, Dancing lessons and Navigation— she was fond of sailing, and would usually accompany Edmund on his political journeys to the Islands and archipelagos. By the time she turned 16, she commanded her own fleet of warships, specifically to deal with the attacks on Narnian trade ships from pirates. She earned the title the Mad Queen for her daring and outrageous strategies to deal death on the sea.

Dancing with the Satyrs and the Dryads was her favourite passtime. If she was not on the sea and not in the archery range, she was in the forest, dancing around the fire in a circle. Her favourite dances were the Sword Dance and the fast paced Centaur's Canter.

Very often, she would assist Edmund with his ridiculous pranks. Equally often, she would blame him for her own pranks. Nobody other than the older pevensies ever believed that the sweet queen would ever prank anyone, which annoyed the three others to no end.

Playing Chess with Susan was also a treasured activity, for her. Often, the reason she came up with her outrageous battle strategies was that she had already thought of them when going up against Susan on the chessboard. Susan was a formidable opponent on the board and Lucy had to pull all the stops to defeat her. It helped when planning for actual war, and not to mention it was entertaining.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Narnia Headcanons

King Edmund the Just

Had several casual relationships and hook-ups with people of all genders, but he neither fell in love with someone nor did he think that someone was politically beneficial enough to marry. He prefers not to label his sexuality.

Narnians gave him many titles. The Fair Judge, the Swordmaster of Narnia, King Edmund the Benevolent, Representative of the People and so on. He was greatly admired in the supreme court of Narnia for his kindness and unbiased treatment of everyone. Beyond Narnian borders he was called the Cunning Fox of Narnia, King Edmund Swordstorm, Edmund the Serpent-Tongued King, the Hurricane of Narnia, etc.

He was the chief diplomat of Narnia, and frequently journeyed to foreign nations to deal with international matters. He was renowned for his art of conversation and would weave such elaborate traps with his words that his prey did not realise they were in danger until they had no way of getting out.

He was a deadly swordfighter— he carried two swords, and despite the lack of a shield, preferred to wear leather armour instead of chainmail. The unconventional armour sent the message that he was lethal enough to not need any real protection.

In one-on-one duels, Peter was better, but Edmund was known as Swordstorm and the Hurricane of Narnia for a reason. His dual swords carved through dozens of enemy soldiers within moments, cutting swathes through the battlefield like a storm. He was brutal, swift and never left a foe alive, and was probably more feared that Peter.

His hair went down to the middle of his back, and was always in braids just like Peter's. He would let Lucy braid flowers into his hair whenever both of them needed to relax or had time. It wasn't uncommon to see the Just King walking around Paravel with roses or violets or jasmines in his hair. When they fell out of Narnia, he had thirty-two braids.

His war paint was deceptively mild looking— two dark green lines running over his left eye down to his chin, and three large dots on the underside of his right eye. It did not look very terrifying, but anybody who ever made the mistake of taking him to be harmless met their death at his sword a second later.

Enjoyed both studying and sports— he often took part in wrestling competitions and mock skirmishes, and just as often could be found debating with Susan, or metaphorically destroying some poor soul that had fallen for his charm and agreed to play chess with him, or in the library with his head buried in a book.

He and Peter refused to duel each other after a certain point in time. They knew each other's fighting styles too well— the duel would always end in a draw, no matter how brutal and deadly Edmund was or how fast and strong Peter was.

Just as good a war strategist as the other Pevensies. He usually left the strategising to Peter and Lucy, but when he did put in his two words, his plans were always crucial in winning wars.

His favourite subjects were Politics, History and funnily enough, cooking. He would often sneak into the kitchens during his free time and ask the chefs to teach him how to cook. Within a year of sitting in on meal prep, he was excellent at cooking, and at least every two months the Pevensies gathered for a family dinner prepared by Edmund.

Piercings. His right ear had four piercings and left had two. He had one in his belly-button and another on his tongue, and then a vertical piercing at his right eyebrow that exacerbated the action of him raising an eyebrow.

The King of Pranks™. Permanent and semi-permanent residents of the castle were frequent targets for his pranks, and the stories of his mischief-making were so outrageous and unbelievable that if anyone who had never been on the wrong end of his metaphorical sword would never even entertain the idea of them being true.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON headcanon

When the Pevensies fell out of Narnia, Peter lost his sword, Rhindon. He missed it very much, so he convinced his mother to let him work a job at the local blacksmith so that he could pay for swordsmanship (not fencing) classes, where he quickly became an outstanding student.

A few years down the line, he made a longsword for himself and named it Andreia for the word's ancient Greek meaning.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Narnia Headcanons

Queen Susan the Gentle

Never married, but so renowned was her beauty that she received countless courting offers from kingdoms all over the Mainland and even the archipelagos beyond the Lone Islands. Got sick of it within a year, and stopped going out of Narnia on account of matrimonial alliances after the Rabadash fiasco.

Personally took in Aravis Tarkheena as an apprentice after the battle at Archenland, and a few years down the line, officiated her wedding to Shasta on the couple's request.

The Narnians gave her many epithets. A few of them are thus: Queen Susan the Fierce, Susan the Eagle-Eyed, the Peacemaker Queen, Defender of the People, etc. In Narnia, she was respected for her intelligence and for being a fierce warrior and archer.

Surrounding nations gave her the following titles: Queen Susan the Divine, the Celestial Beauty, the Heavenly Queen, and so forth. Outside, Susan was famous for her beauty and not much else. It chafed, to not be known for her intelligence or strength. She disliked her foreign titles for their shallowness.

She and the others adopted Peter's tradition of adding a braid every time a battle/duel was won. She would also regularly add flowers to her hair, unlike Peter who only let Lucy braid flowers into his hair on special occasions. She chose the flowers carefully depending on their meaning and how it related to each battle. When they fell out of Narnia, Susan had eighteen braids and types of flowers in her hair.

Detested war, and very rarely rode out to battle— only when there was no other way and she was absolutely required on the battlefield would she don armour and command the archers. She was just as good a strategist as her siblings, and won every battle that she led.

War paint was worn both in court and on the battlefield. In court, her war paint was her makeup— rouge cheeks, rosy lips, black kohl, pearls woven into her hair, shimmery dust on her eyelids and cheekbones. On the battlefield, she caked gold dust on her lips, eyelids and cheekbones till she shone like the sun. She was often called the Radiant Archer.

An athletic nerd; the exact opposite of Peter. She adored being outdoors with a bow and a quiver and sword-wielding with her siblings, but she would rather be in the library with her head in the books or in the throne room attending to the problems of the people.

Her favourite subjects were Literature, Governance and Economics. She had a head for Logic, and would often be found debating these subjects with Ed in their free time. She was a logical creature and rarely gave into emotions when making decisions, which made her well suited to settling internal disputes.

Chess with her sister was her favourite passtime. Lucy was an imaginative strategist and playing her was always a herculean challenge, and Susan quite enjoyed spending hours on the other side of the board from Lucy. Playing Peter was a delightful time, of course, but she liked to spend time with Lucy.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Narnia headcanons

High King Peter the Magnificent

Was the only one that got married out of the four siblings. He married for love, which is extremely rare for Royalty. He had no children, but he loved his spouse/(s) dearly (you may hc his spouse to be of any gender you'd like. Personally, i think Peter is bi.)

Epithets given to him by the narnians include but are not limited to: the Dragon Spirited King, King Peter the Kind-Hearted, Protector of the People, et cetera.

A few of his unofficial titles given to him by people from surrounding countries are: the Warmonger King, the Berserker, and the Bloody Barbarian. He had a reputation of fighting bloody wars and emerging victorious, and was feared all over the Mainland.

Earned the epithet the Bloody Barbarian because he wore blood red war paint on his face every time he rode to battle. It began right under his eyebrows, fanned out over his temples and down to his cheekbones. His blue eyes shone like gemstones against the dark colour; it made him look like terrifying.

Had long hair— it reached the back of his knees at its longest, but he got caught in a fire and had to have it cut to above his shoulders right before they fell out of Narnia.

Became obsessed with braids when he saw dryads braiding each other's hair the day after the coronation. He set up a tradition for himself— with every battle or duel he won, he would add one braid to his hair. It looked very intricate, and the braid count reached close to forty by the time he fell out of Narnia.

Had severe PTSD from all the wars he fought and from being a child ruler. He hid away when the terrors hit, either in the royal library or in Lucy's chambers. He wouldn't speak for hours and hours, and only got brought out of his thoughts when all his siblings gathered to form a cuddle pile to warm him up.

The chief battle strategist of Narnia, taught by Oreius and assisted heavily by Lucy. Came up with truly ingenious plans and formations. From this, stemmed his love for chess. You would often find him and Susan or Edmund holed up in a corner of the castle with a chessboard between them. He and Lucy refused to play each other, because they knew each other's strategising style too well and the battle on the board always came to a stalemate.

An Old Man at heart, truly. He loved to sleep early and wake up with the sun and have a nice, hot cup of well steeped tea as he listened to one of the castle servants read out the news of the day. Early nights and calm mornings were his favourite. Sadly, he did not often get either of those.

Epitome of academic jock. Very well read and had lots of knowledge and always studied diligently, but he preferred being out on the battlefield or in the arena with Rhindon in his hand and his shield on his arm. Introduced rugby to Narnia, and was the Jousting Champion at the annual Inter-kingdom tournaments for eight years straight til Edmund finally gave in to his pestering and participated, and took the trophy home.

His favourite subjects are History, Strategy and— weirdly enough— the Languages. He and Susan especially enjoy calligraphy. Both of them have extensive collections of luxury writing instruments and inks.

Had so many titles that he started hating writing formal missives by the fifth year of his reign. It was too tedious to write out all of them, so he simply hired a court scribe and called it a day. Even now, he considers hiring that faun the greatest idea he ever had.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

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I can't get over the idea that Peter, after the Witch was defeated, fell in love with braiding his hair.

Like. It's two (2) minutes after the coronation festivities have been wrapped up, and this boy. This child. This 13 year old Royal cinnamon roll who is tired and most certainly needs to find a bed to flop onto, posthaste— walks up to the nearest dryad and says, "excuse me madam, but can you find someone who can teach me how to braid my hair?"

This is High King Peter of Narnia, Wolfsbane, Rhindon Bearer, Protector of the People. His wish is command. Of course the dryad can find someone, and she does.

And so begin the lessons, and Peter is a gifted student. He is deft with his fingers and it takes him very little practice to get the technique down pat. Before long, his hair is grown out and long, long, longer than Susan's, and it is always in a braid, sometimes with some assortment of flowers woven in if he feels like it.

The first time he wins a battle after becoming High King, he decides on a new tradition— every battle or duel won deserves to be documented, and what better way than to add a braid for every victory? Small victories get thin delicate braids, bigger victories get thick, intricate braids.

It does not take time for the rest of his siblings pick up the tradition as well, and the knights of Narnia follow suit.

By the time he is in his twenties, Peter's hair when left loose is two feet longer than his height. Susan's own hair reaches her ankles, while Edmund's is a respectable waist length. Lucy is the only one with short hair— she keeps it maintained at just a few inches below her shoulders.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Peter wakes up slowly.

His left cheek is pressed to a cool, soft pillow and a comfortable, sleepy warmth surrounds him, and he furrows his eyebrows, trying to figure out why he has woken up so early— the room is still dark— when he finally notices the sound of muffled laughter right next to him.

Unconsciously, his lips quirk up into a soft, fond smile.

"Well then," he rasps lazily, not bothering to open his eyes beyond the thinnest slit, "am I to be made aware of this most amusing thing that has made you laugh, my darling?"

The muffled laughter only gets louder. Peter's smile grows.

He tugs a hand out from underneath him and blindly reaches out, tugging on a lock of dark hair and earning an indignant squawk and a painless swat in return. It is his time to muffle his laughter now— he turns his face into his pillow, shoulders shaking.

The muffled giggling starts up again, and Peter lifts his head from the pillow, lips pulled into an adoring grin.

"Pray tell, darling," he drawls, looking up to see dark eyes that glitter with mirth and a hand clapped over what he knows are plush, rosy pink lips. "What amuses you so?"

Caspian finally removes his hand from his mouth and bursts into loud, breathless laughter. He leans forward to press his forehead to Peter's shoulder, body quivering with the large gulps of air he heaves between cackles.

Peter raises a hand to tuck a lock of Caspian's hair behind his ear, painfully aware of how smitten he looks.

"Gosh, you're too pretty," he breathes, and relishes in the deep red that blooms across Caspian's cheekbones even as he continues to laugh.

"And you—" Caspian barks out a laugh— "you look entirely too undignified, High King Peter."

He breaks off into another round of cackles, and Peter furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"What?" he asks, pushing up onto his elbows. Caspian lets out a grumble of complaint at being jostled, and Peter presses an apologetic kiss to his temple. "What do you mean? Why are you laughing at me?"

Caspian hides a giggle behind his palm, and call him cliché but Peter falls in love all over again with the sparkle in his eyes.

"Nothing," Caspian says, voice muffled yet obviously filled with glee. "Nothing at all."

Peter sits up entirely and frowns. "Tell me," he demands, and Caspian shakes his head, a wide grin lighting up his face. Peter huffs.

"Caspian."

"Peter," Caspian replies evenly, and Peter huffs again, averting his eyes from his lover's mischievous ones.

Caspian himself is still lying on the bed, dark hair spread out on the white pillow like a halo, blanket pulled up to mid-chest and left arm splayed out to the side. He forewent clothes last night, and Peter trails a slow gaze over the jut of his collarbone and the dip of his throat before moving down and to the side, lips slowly curving up into a smirk.

Caspian takes one look at him and jerks in alarm. "Peter, no—"

He cuts himself off with a loud squeal. Peter laughs as he digs his fingers into Caspian's sides, fluttering over the lines of firm muscle and the jut of his ribs. Caspian writhes and gasps out his name, trying to bat his hands away, but Peter has a goal and he is not going to be stopped; he grabs both of Caspian's wrists in one hand and pins them to the bed above his head, and continues his ticklish assault.

"Tell me," he says in a dramatic gruff voice, which only serves to make Caspian laugh louder. "I demand answers!"

Caspian is too out of breath to reply with anything coherent, so Peter decides to take mercy on him and pulls his fingers away. Caspian heaves, and glares at Peter. He simply smiles angelically, and Caspian huffs.

"You're such an annoying bastard," he grunts, and Peter snickers, pressing him into the mattress and kissing him lightly. "Yes, but I'm your annoying bastard."

Peter's lover notably does not deny that claim, and he glows with delight. "Tell me what was so amusing that you woke me up before dawn."

Caspian lets out a sudden giggle.

"Oh, uh—" he snorts— "your hair looked so very messy and tangled and you were snoring a little and it was adorable. So I was laughing."

Peter stares down at him blankly.

Caspian starts shaking with silent laughter the longer Peter stares, and Peter just sighs before letting his head drop down to Caspian's forehead, a smitten smile curving up his lips.

"You're ridiculous," he mutters fondly, and pressed a gentle kiss to Caspian's cheek.

"And yet you still love me," comes the swift reply, and Peter chuckles. "No," he says, "I love you because you're so ridiculous, not in spite of it."

The beaming smile Caspian gives him might as well be the rising sun, and he lowers himself to claim Caspian's lips in a slow, lingering kiss. The day can wait, he decides: he has a gorgeous lover to please.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Your Misfortune Matches Mine

It has been almost five years since the Pevensies were thrown out of Narnia, since they fell out of the wardrobe in the spare room.

They cope (or don’t) in their own ways.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

All four Pevensie siblings have piercings, and they got their first piercings done together— lobe piercings on both ears. After that, they all went about getting their own.

Peter got a nostril piercing, and had several rings and studs. He also got a helix on his left ear, for which he had another collection of varied jewellery.

Susan went and got an industrial on her right ear, a vertical eyebrow piercing on the left, and she and Peter went for matching belly button piercings (which they redid when they turned adults in England).

Surprisingly, Edmund is the one that has the least number of piercings— just three. Two lobe piercings, and one tongue stud. He got a magic user to enchant that one so that it tasted of dark chocolate (Lucy is jealous. She got hers to taste like kul'aan touki, a narnian sweetmeat made of cashew nuts).

Lucy has the highest number aside from the lobe piercings— her left ear has seven and right has four, and two eyebrow piercings, a septum ring, and a tongue piercing.

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kul'aan touki: my invention. soft and melts in your mouth, tastes sort of like kaju katli (an Indian sweetmeat)

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Stay With Me Forever

I'm in a Caspeter brainrot. I found the ship less than two days ago and if anyone tries anything against it I shall kill everyone in this world and then myself. Anyways, have a happy ending:

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Caspian is in the Astronomy Tower.

He stands with his hands braced on the railings, looking down on the castle as the sun climbs higher in the Narnian sky— it will be noon in an hour, and the castle is full of hustle and bustle. The coronation was yesterday, and the messes are being cleaned and Narnians are finally coming out of the woodwork to assimilate into Telmarine society. He can see a Telmarine soldier speaking to Greenbriar the centaur near the gate, both of them with smiles on their faces, and lets his pleased smile grow over his lips.

Surprisingly, the Telmarines have had very few qualms about Narnian Animals roaming free. It bodes well for the challenges Caspian faces as the newly-crowned king in Narnia.

One of the doors in the courtyard are thrown open, and Caspian's eyes get drawn to the forceful movement.

"Helena!" High King Peter's loud voice echoes through the castle as he strides forward, and Caspian cannot help but follow him with his eyes.

The High King is dressed in Old Narnian royal garments, which Caspian has no doubt he grabbed from the treasury in Cair Paravel. Black linen trousers hug his powerful legs, and a short white tunic with laces instead of buttons and long flowy sleeves covers his torso. Caspian sees the sunlight glint off the cloth, and realises that there is gold thread embroidered into the cuffs and the neckline. His golden hair is longer than it was four months ago when they first met— it reaches his shoulders now, and he wears it in a dozen tiny braids interwoven with golden ribbons; no doubt Lucy's doing.

"Helena," High King Peter calls again as he reaches the other side of the courtyard, and Caspian watches as a maid hurries towards him and bows. Then, the ensuing conversation cannot be heard, for they disappear through the doors.

Caspian didn't know Peter knew any servants by name. He sighs and leans forward, elbow on the railing and chin on his palm, staring at the door through which Peter disappeared.

Aslan came, an hour ago. Caspian saw him walking with Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter, and while he was not invited to the discussion, he has an inkling as to what the talk was about.

Caspian knows that the Kings and Queens of Old came from somewhere not in this world. He has heard the siblings talk about going back home in soft voices that conveyed just how much they hated the idea of it. He has heard them talk about how it is bound to happen now, because it happened the last time. And now, now that he is King and Narnia is safe and the Narnians have their freedom back and there are no wars to fight, Aslan has come to take them back.

Caspian feels his throat constrict.

He thinks about staying in this Castle, with none of the four siblings to keep him company. He thinks of the talks on politics and law making with Edmund as they kept watch together. He thinks of reading poetry with Lucy, and small competitions in archery against Susan that he kept losing much to his annoyance and Susan's smugness.

Most of all, however, he thinks about Peter.

High King Peter, a boy who looks Caspian's age with eyes so blue it makes one think of the summer sky and hair so golden it seems to be spun of sunlight. Peter, with his terrifying scowls and loud laughs, who talks freely and kindly with the Narnians at one moment and turns into an experienced and ruthless War General at the next. High King Peter, who fought— and won— a duel to the death in Caspian's honour while wearing a bracelet that Caspian tied around his wrist.

High King Peter, whom he nearly kissed last night.

Caspian's cheeks burn at the memory, and he steps out the balcony into the room with the hope that no one noticed him.

The coronation celebrations were in full swing, and Caspian was slightly drunk, and found Peter in one of the balconies away from the throne room. They got to talking as they were wont to do, slowly stepping closer and closer until their noses were a hair's breadth from each other.

And then Peter turned around and left him standing there with a thundering heart and eyes burning with tears he refused to let fall.

By the Lion, Caspian is such an idiot.

Of course Peter would not like him. Why would he? He is High King above all Kings in Narnia, a legendary War General with a lethal sword and a powerful presence, who dragged Narnia into the Golden Age with his siblings out of sheer stubbornness and determination. He is High King, about him ballads have been made and books have been written and on whose name people take solemn oaths.

Caspian, on the other hand, is a young King with no experience who did not even fight his own duel. He has accomplished nothing in his nineteen years of life, while Peter fought his first battle at the age of thirteen and emerged victorious against the White Witch. By the time Peter was nineteen the first time in Narnia, he had fought and won thirteen wars.

Caspian is nothing compared to Peter. Of course Peter does not like him, not the same way he likes Peter.

WHAM!

Caspian whips around, hand flying to his sword as the doors are flung open so violently they slam against the wall and rebound. Peter, he realises a second later, and lets go of his sword's hilt.

The High King moves towards him with long, powerful strides, Rhindon clinking at his waist and boots clicking against the stone floor, a look of singular focus in his eyes.

"High King Peter," Caspian says, standing up straight as the man grows closer, "what—"

Peter kisses him.

A hand cups his cheeks and an arm wraps around his waist, and then he is dragged flush against Peter as his plump lips work insistently against Caspian's own.

Caspian gasps, and Peter takes the chance to slip his tongue into his mouth, running it over the back of his teeth and dragging it over the roof of his mouth, pulling a surprised whimper from his throat. Caspian gives in, lifting his arms to wrap them around Peter's shoulders, and opens his mouth wider to let the man do whatever he wishes.

He moves his lips against Peter's as best as he can, but Peter's touch is scorching where his palm is pressed into his lower back and his fingers are firm yet gentle where they grip his chin and his teeth send a shiver up his spine when they sink into his lower lip and his shoulders are broad and muscled under his hands and oh—

Caspian pulls back with a loud gasp, chest heaving with ragged breaths and blood roaring in his ears. He feels his pulse in his temples and the heat in his bright red cheeks, and he opens his eyes to stare in astonishment at Peter.

Fuck, Peter.

His lips are swollen and pink with the kiss, braided hair just a little out of order, and his eyes shine like jewels as he stared back at Caspian with the widest smile Caspian has ever seen on his face.

"I'm staying," he says breathlessly.

Caspian's heart stops.

"I'm staying," Peter repeats, wrapping both arms around Caspian and shaking him to let the point sink in. "I'm staying, forever. I'm not leaving Narnia, Caspian. I'm staying."

Caspian stares at him with wide eyes, almost afraid of believing what he's saying.

Peter laughs, loud and elated, and surges forward to press a quick, feather-light kiss to his lips. Caspian's cheeks burn hotter, and Peter laughs again.

"I'm staying here, in Narnia, forever," he whispers, leaning forward to press his forehead against Caspian's. "And I am free, now, to ask you this: King Caspian, will you do me the honour and bestow upon me the pleasure of allowing me to court you?"

Caspian squeaks.

"Me?" He says faintly, fingers still gripping Peter's shoulders tight. "You want to court me?"

"Verily, my heart cannot stop wanting you, Caspian," he says earnestly. "You are one of the best people I have ever had the good fortune of meeting. You are kind and smart and loyal and you care about my Narnians and I..." Peter exhales, a soft smile growing on his lips.

"I couldn't help it," he whispers. "Falling for you was so very easy, and it scared me, because I'd left Narnia before and I did not want to go through a second time of leaving love behind and come back to find them dead for thirteen hundred years. I- I did not want to do that again, Caspian."

Caspian lifts a hand to cup Peter's cheek, unable to find the words for the things he wants to say. "Peter..."

"But now," Peter says, and his smile is coming back, bright and wide and oh so beautiful, "now we can stay in Narnia for the rest of our lives if we so wish. For Edmund, Lucy and Susan, they would choose Narnia without hesitation."

Caspian's heart is hammering against his ribs, and he can feel the slow smile that curves up the corners of his lips as the pieces start connecting in his mind.

"And you?" he asks, unable to breathe all of a sudden, "what did you choose?"

Peter leans forward to touch his forehead to Caspian's, a long sigh slipping out between his lips. "You," he whispers. "I chose you."

Caspian cannot help it: he tackles Peter to the floor, desperate lips finding Peter's and prying them open to shove his tongue into his mouth, dragging a hoarse moan from the depths of his chest. Peter's arms tighten around him, and suddenly he is on his back on the floor with a hand under his head and an arm wrapped around his waist, Peter's weight pinning him down and a leg shoving its way between his thighs.

Caspian throws his head back and moans at the sensation, and Peter immediately latches onto the skin above his collarbone with his teeth. Caspian gasps, back arching and hands flying up to grip Peter's hair, but Peter is rolling his skin between his teeth and he cannot think.

"Peter," he whines, tugging on a fistful of braided golden hair, and Peter flicks out his tongue to lick over the bite mark. Caspian hitches out a moan, and he feels Peter grin against his skin.

"Yes, Caspian?"

Caspian tugs on his hair again, whining when Peter moves to the other collarbone and digs his teeth in, sending sparks skittering up Caspian's spine.

"You're staying," he gasps, and Peter laughs.

"I'm staying," he says against Caspian's skin, delight visible all over his face. Caspian surges up to press his lips against that plump, red mouth, and Peter kisses back enthusiastically, plundering Caspian's mouth with his tongue till he is whimpering. "I'm staying, and I'm not leaving you. Ever."

"You have my permission, High King Peter," Caspian whispers when they part, heart feeling like it could burst right out of his chest with how hard it was beating. "I give you permission: court me."

Peter's visage lights up with a brilliant smile, and Caspian loses his breath all over again at the gleam in those blue, blue eyes. Now he understands why the High King is called Magnificent.

"Thank you, Caspian. I love you."

"I love you too," he murmurs, dragging Peter down into another kiss.

.

Background: Peter had a wife and a husband back during the Golden Age. Also, this is very definitely Caspian's first kiss.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Caspian awoke when the sky was still dark.

In the distance, through the giant window that faced east, he could see the sky at the horizon growing a little lighter; about five in the morning, if he had to guess.

Caspian pushed himself onto his elbows, but the arm around his waist tightened, and he landed back against Peter's chest, his breath punched out of him.

"No," Peter rumbled sleepily, dragging Caspian closer and burying his face in his neck. "I'm not letting you go yet. It's too early to get up."

Caspian shivered at the deep morning timbre of his husband's voice and sunk into his hold, twisting around and tangling their legs together with a soft grin. Peter was looking at him through sleep-hooded eyes, a faint smirk curving up his lips.

"Oh?" Caspian asked playfully, raising an eyebrow, "you're not letting me go? I'll have you know that I am the King of Narnia, and you cannot hold me against my wishes."

Peter's chest rumbled with a silent laugh. He held Caspian even tighter, dipping his head down and brushing his nose along the underside of Caspian's jaw, making him tip his head back to expose more skin.

"Hmmm and what if the High King has ahold of you, King Caspian?" he drawled teasingly, and Caspian sucked in a sharp breath at the quick nip of teeth on his throat, heart stuttering in his ribcage.

Peter's hands shifted, and a sharp pinch on his backside had Caspian rocking forward into the firm chest of his husband with a high pitched squeak he would deny ever having uttered.

"How are you going to escape my hold now, King of Narnia?" Peter taunted, calloused hands slipping under Caspian's tunic and splaying over his bare arse, tugging him close, close, close till there was barely an inch of space between the two of them. Caspian stared up at him, lying on his side with his golden hair fanned out over the pillow and blue eyes gleaming bright with mischief, and grinned.

"Like this."

In an instant he had Peter on his back, straddling him and pinning his forearms to the bed. He leaned down till his lips were almost but not quite brushing Peter's, not bothering to hide the teasing grin.

"And what now, High King Peter?" he asked, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate circle that had Peter's forearm muscles tensing under his grip— he was trying not to react. "What will you do now that I have a hold on you?"

Peter stared up at him with parted lips, and Caspian's felt his grin widen, heart beating a fast, satisfied rhythm against his ribs.

And then, his world tilted.

Caspian yelped as his back slammed onto the bed. Strong fingers gripped his wrists and pinned them above his head, and a heavy weight pressed him into the mattress. Peter grinned down at him— the smile of a hunter who had its target right where he wanted it.

Caspian swallowed.

"Such bravado," Peter whispered, eyes bright, ducking down to brush hot, open mouthed kisses along the column of Caspian's neck. He gasped and arched into the fluttering touch, tugging his wrists and huffing when Peter's hand tightened around them. "But it vanishes the second I have you under me, doesn't it, darling?"

Teeth nipped at the dip of Caspian's collarbone, and he whined.

"Peter," he gasped, raising his hips to roll against Peter's. Both of them groaned, sparks skittering over their skin. "Peter, I—"

"Caspian," Peter breathed, one hand sliding down to grip his arse and move them together. "Tell me what you want."

Caspian tilted his head up. "You know what I want."

Peter grinned, and kissed him.

They did not leave the bed for two hours.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

The Age of Icons

The 3rd installment of The Age of Icons, a Narnia fic with canon divergence post-LWW, is up!

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The Pevensies have returned to Naernia, but it is no longer their Naernia. The Trees are silent and unmoving, the Rivers do not sing, and the animals have forgotten what it means to have the ability to speak.

With their kingdom being lost to the tides of time, following a dwarf across an unfamiliar forest to meet a Prince of Telmar is the only option they have.