Grasping for a Crown

Summary: . Peter reaches for his crown. . . but it's not there. A take on a slightly calmer movie-verse Peter. One-shot.

He knows it's a foolish idea, trying to make his teacher believe he has any experience in this sort of thing. It's pure craziness to think that a Professor who once served in the army would give Peter the credit as a war hero that he deserved. Because here, in England, Peter deserves nothing.

He fights hard to keep down the words threatening to flow over in the back of his throat. He can't bring attention to himself. He can't let them know that he has seen more of life and death than his classmates will ever have to see. He can't show him that he's not really sixteen; not nearly. He is so much older and wiser and world-worn than he will ever let on.

He studies the maps with the colored tacks sticking out, symbolizing the key position of troops. To the rest of the class, it's just an exercise in war strategy, but Peter closes his eyes and he remembers when the decision he made over little colored chess pieces like this could cost his subjects their lives. He can remember a few times when he made terrible decisions, and he has to blink back the tears. His peers enjoy the activity, but it's all pretend for them. Peter doesn't know how he forces himself to not participate.

Peter doesn't know why, but England seems to affect him harder than his siblings. Lucy could be happy anywhere. Susan was making excellent progress at adjusting. Edmund had no desire to adjust back to England but he also had no desire to be accepted either. He was content to remain out of sight and out of mind. But Peter. . . Peter still reached for his crown that wasn't there.


He walks away, casting his eyes down to avoid Edmund and tasting the metallic flavor of blood on his lips. He remembers, faintly, when this situation was reverse: when it was him always saving Edmund from a fight. Now his younger brother has to fight enough battles for two, and it makes him feel so guilty. But he can't stop this cycle, he just can't. He knows every time he throws the first punch that he's behaving like a child, absolutely pathetic. His conduct is not befitting a knight, and certainly not a king.

Every time he walks away, he pictures Aslan's huge, golden eyes looking sorrowfully at him. He is not acting like Narnia's High King, and he knows it. He doesn't know how he lives with himself sometimes; he thinks of his subjects back home, and wonders how they would react if they saw their king behaving so foolishly. Would they follow him anymore, after his terrible display of conduct? In his heart he doubts himself. He wasn't a King, not anymore. Maybe he was once told "Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia". But he feels like he's acting too terribly for that to apply to him.

After every fight, Peter hides away in his room, feeling guilt and remorse and a dozen other emotions. He thinks of the Great Lion and hangs his head in shame. Every time, Peter reaches to the top of his golden head to take off his crown in an act of repentance. But all he feels is his rough, tousled hair and he knows his crown is already gone.


"I had it sorted." Even as the words come out of his mouth, they disgust him. He didn't have it sorted, he never did, and they both knew it. Why couldn't he admit his own failings? Why was he struggling so much with his own brother, the one he fought alongside for years? The one he would willingly die for? What was the act of bravado for?

It isn't right, and he knows it. He's just not sure how to fix it. As his siblings turn away, he places his hands on the top of his head were his crown should be. But it's gone beyond his power. He touches his golden hair and wonders how much longer he can keep his face up. He's reaching for a crown that's no longer there, and it's slowly killing him inside. e's reacHe