requested by@scvrllet The Chronicles of Narnia — Peter Pevensie x Reader, fluff
word count:562 prompt: love language - acts of service A/N:it’s short and sweet! i really miss peter pevensie, actually, and what i would give to study with him at Professor Kirke’s
Summary: The day is beautiful, but you’re stuck inside.
Outside each dusty window, the world was almost angelic.
The sun had risen that morning like it hadn’t in weeks - bright and glorious, illuminating each flower and blade of grass one by one, coaxing the most beautiful of hues out of each plant with a honey-sweet smile. The birds had enjoyed that, and they sang and gossipped in the ripened fruit trees and hadn’t stopped, all these hours later. A butterfly had just flown by a moment ago - it perched on the bluebells growing in the windowsill and drank its nectar - delicate wings fluttering, its fragile beauty dancing on the gentle wind. You couldn’t help but stare beyond the glass; the beauty of the late morning reminded you of the halcyon days in Narnia - those sunspots of joy that couldn’t be erased from your memory.
oh my god the way i’m in love with your writing and am now also missing peter whiwvsiwbwis
just, the way it’s such a simple action he’s doing but it means so much to the reader that makes it so soft. olive you’re making me soft with just barely 600 words and i am, just wow. feeling many things.
AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g s To the glistening eastern sea, I give you Queen Lucy the Valiant. To the great western woods, King Edmund the Just. To the radiant southern sun, Queen Susan the Gentle. And to the clear northern skies, I give you King Peter the Magnificent. Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens.
So I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I’ve been working at this for a long time. It’s based off a request, I kind of took creative reins here so I’m sorry @ requestee, I hope you like it! Let me know if anyone wants this idea for the other siblings. (The * is because I found a tumblr post including that quote, but I couldn’t find the original creator)
Request: “I’ve wondered what it would be like if the kids had families in Narnia. When they were kings and queens and were old enough to have families of their own or at least significant others. Would you be ok with writing an imagine or scenario on that? Edmund or Peter would do if you can only do one (I used to have a crush on both of them growing up lol)”
Any true Narnian knows of the Golden age, the years of peace and prosperity that hailed from the reign of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve: High King Peter, the Magnificent; King Edmund, the Just; Queen Susan, the Gentle; and Queen Lucy, the Valiant.
Stories and legends passed down among generations, whispered through the thick woods during the Telmarines reign, words of hope, and tales of greatness. Many focus upon these stories themselves, rather than think of the individuals that lived it, and for good reason too. For anyone knows, gaze too strongly upon greatness and you will find despair.
“A king is not a ruler. He is, first and foremost, a protector. There are legends of King Peter’s wrath.”* “Ah, dear one, let us not trouble your father any longer,” you had smiled lovingly at your son before turning to look up at him. Your son’s fingers wrapped strongly around yours as he tottled warily; walking a new frontier for him to discover. You bent over, holding him up carefully and making sure he wouldn’t fall. “He’s been at it all day!” You laughed, immediately bringing a wider grin on Peter’s face. Your laugh, oh Aslan, how he loved your laugh. It made your face light up, your nose would crinkle, and it sounded like a dryad. “Love, You should know you two never trouble me. Besides, I ought to start referring to you as three shan’t I?” Peter stood, rushing over to swing his son up into his arms and pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Mmh, probably,” you placed a hand upon your growing stomach and tickled your son’s arm lightly. “I’ll be due in a few weeks, and then we’ll have another one keeping us up at night,” your eyes twinkled mischievously. “All worth it, my Queen,” Peter’s chest rumbled with laughter as he glanced out the castle window. The sun shone on the sea, and laughter and music could be heard from the courtyard. His gaze dropped down to you- you who were so expertly tucked under his arm, your eyes alight with life and joy and love, the hand placed lovingly on your belly, to your son, who was perched on his hip like always, who’s lips bubbled with childlike laughter and livelihood, and he knew. “All worth it.” Peter blinked frantically, it was another dream, always the same. He tried to grapple with sleep, make it pull him back in, for only a moment longer, only one more second of your smile, one more second of your son’s cheek upon his shoulder, one more second… But you were gone, out of reach, out of hold, just like every time he woke from slumber.
He knew the train was going to crash, he felt the air grow heavy as it had before battle, as if mourning the losses it was about to witness. He wasn’t scared, though he knew, in theory, he should have been. In this world’s view he was only 22, his whole life ahead of him, everything to gain… He glanced into his brother’s eyes. They held the same knowledge his possessed. There were far greater things they had left behind, and maybe, just maybe, this journey wouldn’t be so bad. Edmund held out his hand, a comforting gesture, and Peter gratefully took it.
Renewed. Peter glanced down and released his brother’s hand. His brother- Edmund. He once again appeared as he had during their reign, his crown upon his dark head and his features mature. To his left stood his sister, Lucy, once again mature, her red hair falling in waves down her gown. His parents, Eustace, Jill, the professor as he had only seen in pictures- they were in Narnia, and before them stood the great lion Aslan. He felt the familiar weight of his crown on his head, and Peter Pevensie truly smiled. Not only that, but he laughed, a light boyish like laugh. He had been so angry. Anger, what a silly emotion that was. There was no need for anger in Aslan’s country. He ran and embraced the lion, and oh how comforting was his fur. He felt like the boy he had once been; many years ago, he felt like the King that had sat at Cair Paravel’s throne, and when the gates opened, he felt the flutter in his heart that he had lost so long ago. You, oh how magnificent you were. It was as if he breathed a breathe of fresh air, and his heart lept with joy. Beside you, a young boy held your hand firmly, and in your arms was a beautiful toddler, a young girl. The rest of His family, you were reunited. He simply ran towards you, no words needed exchanging as he pulled you in his arms, the young boy wrapped around his legs, and the young girl clutching his two pointer fingers. He was back, and he was home. He glanced at Aslan, the great lion had grown, and he nodded once. High King Peter, the magnificent, was home.
Besides Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia is one of my childhood. I’ve watched both the movies and read the books but I think i’m going to re-watch and re-read all again. :D
So kids stop losing teeth around the age of 12, which means that LUCY AND EDMUND LITERALLY LOST TEETH IN NARNIA!! Anyways thought I’d just pop in and say that : D
imagine Mr Tumnus’ confusion when Lucy lost and tooth and proudly showed it to Peter he didn’t even understand handshakes, so this would be even more strange to him headcannon that Centuars don’t loose teeth like humans so even THEY are confused
Peter stands in the ruin of Cair Paravel, his palace, his kingdom, and the years come crashing down on his shoulders. A year since he and his siblings went missing, fifteen years as High King, centuries since he last stood where he stands now. Lucy seems near tears, Edmund angry, and Susan just looks sorry.
The treasure room was the last straw; sixteen steps to the bottom and their gifts from Father Christmas hanging on the wall and the “do you remember” of the whole place was almost more than any of them could bear. The thrill of realizing it was Cair Paravel had been dulled by how many years it must have been since they lived there. Their friends must be long gone, even if the apple trees–apple trees they planted, just before the Calormen ambassador came–are still here.
“This is my sword, Rhindon,” Peter says. “With it I killed the wolf.” From his siblings’ expressions he knows that his voice is more that of the High King than of Peter Pevensie from Finchley. There is magic in the air, and even if he looks more or less as he did when they were in the railway station, Narnia’s magic is working on him in other ways.
Sheathing his sword, he follows his siblings out of the treasure chamber and helps Edmund to build a fire without thinking about it. He bids Lucy good night automatically and stretches out with his back to the fire.
They must have been summoned.
Lucy’s finding the wardrobe was not a mistake, or if it was, it was because the wardrobe was a doorway. Railway platforms do not turn into woods all on their own. That had been magic. The woods are silent; something must be terribly wrong in Narnia. Cair Paravel was attacked, but Peter and his siblings were not called when that attack took place, so why now?
As much as he turns it over in his head, he can’t make sense of it. It isn’t logical, but perhaps it doesn’t need to be. It’s not logical that the stars are any different from England, but they’re still more familiar from his years spent studying and watching with the centaurs. Looking up into the Narnian sky, he notes that Tarva and Alambil are in close conjunction. If Peter had to guess, the great conflict indicated has yet to take place, and that is what he and Susan, Edmund, and Lucy are here to aid Narnia in.
Under the stars, on the cold, stony ground that was once theirs, Peter silently vows to put Narnia to rights, whatever necessary.
“You’re falling now. You’re swimming. This is not harmless. You are not breathing.” ― Richard Siken, Crush
your mother once told you that the world does not stop for your terror. now, it looks at you from within needle-sharp teeth and trembling breaths. now, it looks at you as though you are not still choking on paint, as though this world, and all its salt, is home now to you as it is to your cousins and their laughing mouths, pulled taut by longing.
your mother is clutching the phone again. “helen”, she says, her voice soft, her knuckles white, “there’s something wrong with your children.” you don’t hear her answer, but your mother hangs up, her lips pursed. she doesn’t look at you. in his chair, your father turns a page.
your lungs are still lined with sea salt, you see. your skin is still stretched over the hollow of your bones, you see. your teeth are dull. your hair is dripping with water, still. it collects at your clavicles, and at the bottom of your feet. below you, the wooden floor rots. your mother doesn’t look at you.
your father turns a page.
your nails are weak, and dull. your stomach lies, clawed open and empty, under the stretch of your ribs. come, child. press a hand against your chest. can you feel your heart beating still?
in the mornings, before your mother comes to open all the windows and all the doors, with a sharp mouth and sharper hands, your cousins lie curled into one another. she is the inhale to his exhale, his fingers on her pulse point, her ear pressed against his chest. to the twin-beats of their hearts, they lie in this home full of teeth. she reaches for you.
your skin peels from you in welts. your teeth shed from you from the roots upwards. the world tilts and levels and stops.
“stand up straight”, your mother says as the world around you melts into a swirl of colour and sound, the corners of her mouth tilted upwards, “the world won’t stop for you.” and England never has. rounded and full of edges and full of cousins with secrets hidden in their smiles, it kept on turning, no matter how much you ripped open your skin trying to make it stop.
but this world is flat. this world lies, unmoving, with the ocean flowing from it on all sides. this world stops. your cousins bloom, here. your world changes, here.
*
take your skin. take your nails and your teeth and your shoulder blades. don’t pull at them. don’t pick at them. look into that mirror and don’t flinch. look at your cousins and the way they never really stop touching, tucked into a space they’ve carved into this England. look at this world and don’t ache for mouses who have long since walked off the edge of it.
*
when you first meet susan, she is carefully wrapped in petticoats. her lips are painted scarlet, her dress fans out when she turns. from within her smile, you can still see the weight of the world and how it has long since worn them dull.
she looks at you. if you tilt your head right, you can see the constellation caspian had sailed after in them. under your nails, your skin breaks. under your teeth, your gums break. susan doesn’t reach for you. she takes a cup and a lighter. she lights the stove and starts spooning coffee into the coffee machine. peter kisses her bare shoulder. she wraps a hand around his wrist.
and then she turns to look at you. her skirt sways. “i’m sorry”, she says. her voice is soft, and untrembling, and you can hear edmund in it. he hits his rs the same way. you cannot stop looking at her. there is not a freckle on her skin.
from within her, the world looks at you, still and unmoving. Untrembling, with her hair in perfect curls, the world has stopped for you. your feet are wet. the water drips from your fingertips. the fire drips from your lungs into the hollow of your ribs. you do not respond.
would you even know how to?
*
the war still sits in all your bones, see. it’s not the same war that has burrowed itself under your skins. or rather, your cousins have wars hidden in their gums that you cannot conceptualise. there are tremors in their hands and sharp edges in their jaws. your mother purses her lips when susan cooks coffee in the mornings, and spends hours nursing just one cup of it. peter lies his head in her lap, edmund takes the curlers out of her hair and lines them up on the kitchen table. lucy sits outside, with her head tilted upwards, with her bare feet on the grass.
and susan looks at you.
until your skin crawls, she looks at you, with her dark eyes and her smiling mouth.
edmund kisses the top of her head, and peter snores softly. susan cups her coffee with both hands and leans forwards.
come on. take a breath. and then another.
this is it.
“i’m sorry”, she says again. “it will never be the same again, after you’ve been there. there’s no going back for us. it changes you, and turns you inside out. and then you’re back here and nothing feels right.”
behind her, the kettle boils.
*
susan pevensie has the world in her smile. from within the red stretch of her, it breathes, and it lies, frozen, until you might be pulled back into it. when you are, you will have to leave them here, with the boiling kettle. with the world turning, still. it doesn’t stop for their terror, see.
here, you’re all just children. here, there is something wrong with the edges of your teeth. here, your cousin wraps herself in girdles and petticoats and draws a line on the back of her legs with kohl. somewhere in the bones of her lies a queen.
The Pevensie children! This is a photo of all of us from our LWW production in Glasgow!
So every time October rolls around I get very emotional because all my memories from Scotland start coming up on my socials. Most aren’t cosplay related so I haven’t shared them here, but there’s some I think y'all would really like so I’m going to try and dig those up.
While I was in Scotland I was in a production of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and was fortunate enough to land the role of Peter. I became great friends with these three here, and seeing these photos makes me miss them a whole lot.
peter pevensie is not boring! his narrative arc, especially in the books, is ridiculously painful and complex, and covers some very poignant ground on identity loss/mythologisation! not only did c.s. lewis tend to avoid addressing material that was too mature or dark for his readers (thus leaving us with only vague sentiments about how peter “felt tired all over” or didn’t look like himself after committing violent acts), but peter himself doesn’t tend to share his thoughts until he’s ready to act (see: his bullet-point list about why the ruins in pc must be cair paravel); so he can superficially appear to fade into the background. it’s not obvious until you look a little closer - but you’re doing a disservice to your narnia experience in writing him off as boring!
Peter had never expected himself to fall for someone while in Narnia still
No, he loved it there, but he had to get back to their own world, it was the right thing to do
But then he had met you, and nothing else seemed clearer anymore
You seemed to shine, by how much he could only stare at you when you were around
Your smile would make him tremble and your laughter would make him smile as well, even if you had not been talking to him at all at the moment
His siblings noticed it after a short time, of course. They knew him too well to not see just how astonished he was everytime you were in the room
Peter doesn’t mind some of the teasing, he had expected it already. In fact, it seemed to make his feelings for you even more real and somehow it felt good for him
And even though Peter felt like that, he never expected you to feel the same way. You were always polite and warm with him, but you were like that to everybody, and that’s a lovely thing. He just knew it wasn’t just for him
But then one day, after he spent the whole evening talking to someone else at the camp, Susan came to him and said that she had seen you staring at them and that you were definitely jealous and sad
And then Peter came out to you to talk. You had to talk and figure out how the other felt
It turned out, you ended up just staring into each other’s eyes and kissing deeply, the non said words more clearer than they had ever been
You kissed deeply and meaningfully, hungrily and held on to each other with strength as if afraid to let go
It turns out, your future relationship could be defined just like that
Peter was to be a King in the future, and you supported him with all you had
You fought battles together and you were scared, afraid of losing him, every second of those days and so has he about you. The mutual fear was indeed a thing
But you turned out good, he turned out good
And after those long days of battles, with people who threatened Narnia and it’s people, you would meet each other and just lean your foreheads together
Enjoying one another by the simple fact of being there
The only thing I ask from Netflix when they work on the Narnia series is that the characters remain closer to their book ages than the films did, especially with the kids. I think it’d be great seeing the kids as actual kids and it would really emphasize how quickly they had to grow up, not just because they fought in wars in Narnia at young ages, but because the early 20th century was not a time period where kids could be kids. It was devastating and stressful and full of so much destruction and loss. It makes the idea of Narnia all that more heartbreaking. These were war-weary children coming into a world that was so much unlike their own and they didn’t have the same comforts of their world and they didn’t have their parents but they also had this place they could escape to that no other kids could say they had. It’s just one of those things that I do nitpick a bit more about in the films that I hope they give some insight into on Netflix.
![jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g](https://64.media.tumblr.com/18c524342e3553b1f9ea392fce94e815/tumblr_p6tum8JGfs1s58xhko5_r1_1280.png "jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g")
![jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fa30c6cd59600a5709f9b83372525ab9/tumblr_p6tum8JGfs1s58xhko2_1280.png "jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g")
![jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d077eb6ba70c3a1c09cdb48ea6fbcd08/tumblr_p6tum8JGfs1s58xhko4_r1_1280.png "jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g")
![jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fc83ee0aecaf70cd89728b3681c43ac1/tumblr_p6tum8JGfs1s58xhko1_r3_1280.png "jediknightrey:AESTHETIC MEME: [8/10] anything else: t h e P e v e n s i e s i b l i n g sTo the g")
