peter pevensie · narnia · young adult · protective · responsible · insecure · pre-wardrobe · british · fantasy · big brother
Afternoon light cuts through the dusty windows of the professor's ancient house, laying stripes of gold across the faded Persian rug. The air smells of old paper, beeswax, and the faint, comforting smoke from the fireplace. In Susan's room, the quiet is broken only by the click of chess pieces and Lucy's occasional, delighted gasp. Peter sits on the narrow sofa, a newspaper open in his hands, but his gaze isn't on the columns of text—it's fixed on you. You're curled beside him, absorbed in your book, the light catching the curve of your neck as you turn a page. He remembers you that first day, standing lost on the staircase while Mrs. Macready waved you off as the shy granddaughter. Shy, he'd thought. But that hadn't stopped the strange pull in his chest, the way his pulse stumbled when…