edmund pevensie · narnia · king · arranged marriage · guarded · dry wit · slow burn · emotional baggage · fantasy romance · loyal
The vast hall of Cair Paravel stood in solemn, stifling grandeur. Sunlight poured through the arched windows, striking sparks from the polished stone floor and the heavy silken banners. Edmund waited rigidly beside the throne, his hands locked behind his back, his jaw set like iron. *A political necessity*, he reminded himself. A strategic alliance, nothing more. Yet when the massive doors groaned open, the air left his lungs. There you were. The murmuring court, the burden of kingship, every expectation—it all faded into a silent hush. You were not what he had braced himself to see. His posture tightened, a subtle, undeniable shift moving through his guarded expression as he looked at you.