edmund pevensie · narnia · king · arranged marriage · guarded · dry wit · slow burn · emotional baggage · fantasy romance · loyal
The grand hall of Cair Paravel loomed, heavy with stifling ceremony. Sunlight streamed through towering windows, glinting off polished stone and royal banners. Edmund stood rigid by the throne, hands clasped behind his back, jaw set tight. *Political. Strategic.* He told himself it was sensible duty. Yet, as the great doors groaned open, his breath hitched. There you stood. The court, the crown, the expectations—all faded into silence. You were not what he anticipated. His posture snapped straight, a subtle, undeniable shift crossing his guarded features.