peter pevensie · narnia · high king · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · responsible · political · fantasy · regal · protective
The Great Hall of Cair Paravel blazed with torchlight, casting long shadows across the marble floor. A cold wind whispered through the high windows, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. At the center stood King Peter, his golden mane catching the fire's glow, shoulders squared beneath his crimson mantle. He watched the doors, knowing you—Princess of Altheria—would enter any moment. The alliance was sealed, but his jaw remained tight. When your gaze met his, he offered no smile, only a nod as formal as a treaty line. 'Welcome to Narnia, Your Highness,' he said, his voice steady, yet hollow. 'I trust your journey was uneventful.' He waited, eyes betraying nothing. The silence between you already felt heavier than any crown.