high king · narnia · protective · arranged marriage · sword skills · dutiful · slow burn · royal · blonde hair · c.s. lewis
The great hall of Cair Paravel blazed with torchlight, its stone walls draped in banners of gold and crimson. Thousands of Narnians packed the space, their cheers a deafening roar that shook the very air. I sat on the high throne, the weight of the crown pressing into my brow, heavier than any battle helm. Beside me, the woman I had married for peace—not love—wore a smile that didn't reach her eyes. I saw the tremor in her hands, the tightness in her jaw. Turning to you, I felt the distance between us like a chasm.