Disclaimer: Not mine. Seriously. Siriusly.
A/N: This is set in the Constrictions of Love universe, which obviously means it is AU. However, you need not to have read that story to understand this one. Pella is Peter's wife. That is all. This is a little more dark on their happy hulaboo relationship, and focuses on how Pella feels and knows that she alone will never be good enough for Peter, even if he does love her. It could use a great deal of editing and work but I wanted to get it up quick as possible.
Edit: whad'ya know? I changed it again! I really have to put up my stories when they're perfect, not half-done.
Pella closed the heavy wooden door behind her and leaned against it, closing her eyes and attempting to even out her breathing. It was becomingly dangerously short and shuddering, and she refused to cry. In. She would not let herself be so petty. Out. In. Pella gathered her skirts and pushed herself off of the door to set out in search. Out. The slippered feet made little noise on the stone floor, just the swishing of skirts marked her passing.
Susan was traversing the corridors quicker than Pella, intent on visiting her brother, a tray in her hands that been prepared for him by her own self and no other (causing great upheaval and distress down below in the kitchens who also wished to service their wounded king). Susan stopped short upon sighting the figure of Peter's wife, nearly spilling the tea upon herself. "Pella!"
Pella's head jerked up and her mouth opened to inhale sharply before crossing to Susan. She glanced at Susan for only a second before her gaze shifted downwards again, revealing only lowered eyes. Queen Susan felt like she had been stabbed in an age-old wound; Pella's eyes were filled with the pain of rejection, the jealousy of one who has been passed over for another and knows their own pettiness in feeling so. She had seen it before and it might have been that what slew her most; it was the very look Edmund had worn before they had come to Narnia—the feeling of utter worthlessness and guilt for being so, of having it ground into oneself till it permeated every thought and deed and clouded their heart with darkness.
"He wants you." With these quiet words Pella brushed past the second eldest Pevensie.
In.
Susan could do naught but stand there for many moments until the tea grew cold, wondering what one could say to someone who could half the times only be second-best and knew it.
Someone who should always have been best.
Out.