Author's note: I have been asked why so many people write Peter/Susan fics and here is my response:

There are many reasons why people write SusanPeter fics, and my suggestion to you is if you don't like it, don't read it. .

As for why I write Peter/Susan, it all stems from when I was 4 and watched the PBS/BBC version of LWW. In my childlike way I thought Peter brave (and I had a crush on him when my mother read me the story) and since he was a knight and rescuing Susan (we had yet to get to that part of the story) I figured that they would fall madly in love. So of course when they became King and Queen I assumed they were married. Of course, being so young I had a short term memory and would always forget they were siblings.

But I believe there are soul mates and that sometimes you cannot help who you fall in love with. Now on to the fic.

"I'm waiting for the world to fall

I'm waiting for the scene to change

I'm waiting when the colors come

I'm waiting to let my world come undone"

Jars of Clay "I'm Waiting for the World to Fall"

Lines of what he believed were right and wrong blurred when he was with her. One touch from her delicate hands could erase the world. She was always the first to act when it came to their relationship. Though he sought for her skin, her lips time after time, he would never ask for them, but wait until she gave them freely to him.

Clearly he could remember the first time her touch had changed. He saw her no longer as a child, a little girl who would follow him around trying to be just like him. Now she was a young lady, a woman, and he wondered how he had missed the time that spanned in between these two stages in her life.

It was a stormy winter day, before there were wars and bombs, and Narnia. Edmund had been picking on Lucy endlessly, causing her to weep and hide in her room for the rest of the afternoon. Peter scolded Edmund fiercely for his behavior, reminding Edmund that Lucy was the youngest and that he should not torment her so. It reminded Peter of a talk their father once had with him when he had cause Susan to cry in the same fashion. Dear reliable Edmund spouted his spiteful words making Peter more cross then he was before. Then the vile words flew from his lips before he could restrain himself. All he could hear above the blood boiling in his head and ears was Edmund's fast footsteps up the stairs.

Warmth swept over him as Susan placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder, speaking in soft tones like one would use to calm a wild beast when it is riled. Small fingers curled to softly grip his shirt, as she murmured phrases of how all would be right in a few hours, and that everything would be forgotten. Peter looked down at her, and wondered when she became so smart and grown up.

Now he felt as if he could not get enough of her touches, her gentle gazes, or her sweet kisses. They burned his skin leaving invisible scars to remind him of what he could never have. He crumbled beneath her presence to feeling like a little boy, yet she could also build him up to feel as if he was truly magnificent.

London had now become a distant memory as the enchantment that is Narnia spun its web around their hearts and minds. After a trying day, High King Peter needed something to relieve his woes and troubles. "Perhaps a walk is in order," he thought to himself as he wandered with no direction, but found his heart had led him to the perfect place.

There she sat, like the angel he believed her to be, bathed in sunlight and warmth. What compelled him to approach her, he did not know. She was a siren beckoning his ship to head for complete disaster and he obeyed willingly. First a hand on her cheek to make her look up to him, followed soon by his other offering assistance.

All at once he pulled her to himself wondering if this was what perfection felt like. Her lavender smell clouded his senses. It seemed an eternity before he dipped his head capturing her lips, claiming them for his own. This was the first time he ever asked for her touch, the first time where he sought something from her that she had not given first.

He always believed the world would end and fall into the sea if he acted first. Now the colors had changed, and the world had not ended. She did not pull away, and he was glad. Holding her to him, he was content, for Susan in his arms, her lips pressed against his, was heaven. He returned to heaven more and more.

Then they followed the white stag and fell through the wardrobe, back to war and bombs. Her touches never came now. So he waited until her hand found his shoulder once more. There he vowed that he would wait, wait for his world to fall, wait for it to come undone. Someday the colors would change; someday he would taste heaven again.