First
Author's notes: This is a series of one-shots about Peter and Susan. Yep, it's Pevencest. Be warned. Don't like, don't read. Please R&R!!! But no flames please. Rated M.
Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia. C.S. Lewis, Walden Media, Warner Bros. and (formerly) Disney own. No copyright infringement intended.
The First Time He Realized He Loved Her
It had been two years since their coronation. Surrounding nations had heard about these new rulers. Emissaries and ambassadors started pouring in from all around. And when they had laid eyes on Queen Susan the Gentle, that's when the courtships and negotiations began. They were all attracted to her—these suitors. They presented solutions. Marriage proposals. Wedding plans. But Peter would have none of it. Suitor after suitor came, but Peter turned them all away. Lucy and Edmund could not understand. An alliance would be most welcome. Of course, only Peter understood. Or did he? He seemed confused. He did not know what was making him act the way he did. Susan was right. He was acting more like a jealous husband than a protective older brother. And then one night, it dawned on him. He was afraid to lose Susan. He loved her as more than a sister. He had fallen for her. He was sick to his stomach. The thought made him sick. But he felt good, too, he thought. Somehow, this was wrong and right at the same time.
"Sire," Blilenwaald, his secretary, said that night, "A young Telmarine is here to see Her Majesty the High Queen."
"Yes," Peter said, absently, "Let him dine here. Serve him."
"Sire," the Dwarf said, and bowed.
When he had exited, Peter walked to the far end of the room and grabbed a spear from the wall. He hurled it across the room with all his might. It hit a wooden shield hanging above the hearth with a loud thwok!
At supper, Peter could hardly eat. He also rarely talked that evening. His silence was deadly. Edmund now understood. Peter's silence meant a bad end for the young Telmarine duke. Yet the Telmarine sensed nothing. Or was he merely trying to ignore the signs Peter was giving? He finally spoke. About his "mission."
"I come to seek the hand of my Queen Susan."
"Your queen?" Peter responded coldly.
"My sister is not for the taking, Sir Duke," Lucy said, sounding protective for the first time. But she sounded less harsh than Peter.
"I understand you have qualms about giving your sister in marriage—"
"My sister, good sir," Peter said, slowly, his voice icy cold, "is but a girl of fifteen. That is hardly a good age to be given in mar—" here, the duke cut him off.
"Who are you to say what age is appropriate for marriage? You are also but a lad and you have already drunk flask after flask of firewater? Yet you discourage your sister from marriage! You are full of contradictions, my King." He smiled.
"I am not your king!" Peter roared.
"I promise, I shall take care of your—"
"You and what army?" Edmund joined in, sounding protective this evening, as well, but keeping his temper.
"You heard us. My sister Queen Lucy does not wish to marry our sister off. Neither do I," Peter said.
"Nor I," joined Edmund.
"Queen Susan is of age! Let her decide for hers—"
Here, Peter grabbed the spear he had flung at the shield earlier that evening. He had hidden it under the table while the servants were preparing the meal. It sounded once more with a thwok. The duke fell back. Peter had not wounded the man, but he was trapped, pinned to his chair by the spearhead stuck in the wood. He struggled but could not remove it. Peter stood and went over to the man. He stepped on his chest with his heavy boot.
"Touch my sister and you die," he said, with cold fury. He ordered the guards to take the duke down to the dungeon.
That evening, nobody could make Susan talk. She was in no mood to do so. Peter found her on her balcony. She was staring out at the sea.
"I'm sorry I upset you this evening," he began.
"And who gave you permission to enter my chamber?"
"Look! I'm sorry, alright?" Peter said, hotly, "I'm only doing my job as your brother!"
"Brother?" Susan said, testily, "Brother! You sounded more like jealous husband! Tell me this, Peter, tell me this. Why is it that every time I have a suitor from another land, you turn him down. Why can't you let me decide for myself? Why?"
"Because," but Peter could say no more, and his jaw dropped. His mouth, wide open.
Because I love you. As more than a sister. I want you to love me as more than a brother. I want you to love me as you would a lover. Because I love you, Susan. I…love you.
"I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, Peter," Susan said, calmly now, "But please, stop acting like a jealous husband."
I am a jealous husband.
And Peter stormed off in a rage, out of Susan's chambers. That night, he could not sleep. He could only think of how much he loved her. How much he wanted her to love him back. He thought about the Telmarine in the dungeons bellow and what might happen if Susan was to marry that duke.
He couldn't bear the thought of it. He couldn't stand it. It made him sick to think of it. The thought of making love to his sister had ceased to make him sick now. It was the thought of that duke making love to her that made him sick.
For he, Peter Pevensie, High King of Narnia, realized for the first time that he loved her.