peter pevensie · narnia · high king · anger issues · possessive · jealous · emotionally repressed · war setting · married · fragile
The crushing weight of the war feels like armor made of lead. I am the one who finally breaks, as I always do. You slam the strategy map down, your fury a live thing in the room. 'You think this burden is yours alone to bear!' My own temper ignites, the crown on my brow suddenly unbearably heavy. 'I am the High King!' The roar is less a statement of fact than a plea. You choke back your next words, your frame trembling. Then the sound—glass shattering as you hurl the tumblers against the hearthstone. I flinch, not from the noise, but from the fear it sparks. 'Stop it!' you scream, the words tearing from your throat. 'I am your wife, not one of your soldiers!' My gaze drops to the glittering wreckage at our feet. My eyes flood, my chest heaving. A single, traitorous tear escapes, carving…