One Last Time
Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia.
WARNING: Implied incest. Peter/Susan
She's waiting, at her vanity, dressed in white and almost ready.
She waits.
He steps through the door without the courtesy of knocking. She scowls at him, because he lost that right when they returned to their child bodies.
It's been years since she's looked at him properly, he looks so incredibly familiar, and yet she knew she no longer knew him at all, another intimacy forfeited upon their return.
He looks like he's been at war in winter. She knows, she's seen him return from such campaigns. It hurts her to know that she's hurting him.
They drink in the sight of one and other. It has been too long, they have been distant, unable to face one and other, angry and sorrowful and jealous.
He breaks the silence and the tension with a soft charming smile that melts her insides just a little without her permission.
"Susan," he greets shoving his hands casually in his pockets, her name feels awkward as it passes his lips out of context.
"No..." Susan says suddenly burning for this last reminder, "No...not today," she says softly, "Just one last time, please Peter,"
She often pretends she cannot remember anything of Narnia. It is easier, most of the time, but not today.
His tense posture relaxes and his face softens. He executes a perfect bow to her, "As my lady commands," he agrees.
The corner of Susan's lips quirk slightly in a barely there sad smile that makes her look lovely.
Peter crosses the room, and comes to stand behind her.
"My King," she greets handing him a brush.
"We're going to be late you know," he says rolling his brown eyes but taking the proffered item anyway.
"The guests can abide a bit longer," she answers unconcerned as he pulls the brush through her silken hair deftly.
She knows it's not the thing for a young lady to wear her hair down in this day and age, but she does because this is the last time, and she wants to give Peter a proper goodbye.
"Help me?" she requests handing him the headpiece.
It isn't a crown, or a circlet, or a wreath of fresh flowers, but it is close enough to all these things for their purposes.
"There," she says satisfied.
"You look radiant my darling Queen," Peter says truthfully kissing the back of her hand.
If his eyes are deep wells of sadness rather than barely banked smouldering fires Susan pretends not to notice.
He holds the door open for her as they leave the room and they descend the stairs in silence hands pressed tight together, fingers entwined.
They stop outside the double doors.
"Are you ready?"
"Not quite,"
He leans down and brushes his lips gently against hers, feather-light and fleeting, a memory of a dream.
A silent goodbye.
For the last time she leans up into him letting his warmth surround her giving in for just one last second.
"Now I'm ready," he whispers.
He's lying, Susan knows, can tell, and she's glad that he doesn't say I love you, or make it harder than it already is.
The music starts the doors swing open.
They stand together tall and regal as Peter offers her his arm and she takes it. They glide down the aisle slowly and if Lucy and Edmund stand a bit prouder at the front of the room no one pays them any mind because they are transfixed by the sight of Peter and Susan who fit together perfectly and look as if they'd done such things hundreds of times, which of course they had, but no one knew that.
King and Queen stand together in this last moment glowing radiant and complete in the grey winter sunlight.
"Who gives this woman over into this man's keeping?" asks the Minister once he recovers his voice.
"I do," Peter answers.
It is his last act as King.
AN: Like it? Hate it? Please review and let me know what you think.