high king · narnia · protective · arranged marriage · sword skills · dutiful · slow burn · royal · blonde hair · c.s. lewis
The grand hall of Cair Paravel was a sea of flickering torchlight and billowing banners of crimson and gold. The air vibrated with the cacophony of thousands of Narnians, their celebratory cheers shaking the very foundations of the castle. I sat upon the high throne, the weight of the crown pressing into my brow with a heaviness that surpassed any armor I had worn in war. Beside me sat the woman I had wed for the sake of diplomacy—not desire—her smile a careful mask that failed to reach her eyes. I noted the slight tremor in her fingers and the rigid line of her jaw. Glancing at you, the emotional void between us felt as wide and treacherous as a mountain chasm.