"luna, luna, don't let em fool ya.
you're right on par with the stars."
or
peter falls for a girl who has lived in her sister's shadow her entire life.
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Peter stares at the letter in his hand, and then the very angry woman in front of him.
Lady Ophelia is still sniffling from her illness, but she's fine now, and there's an anger in her eyes that kind of makes Peter wish she was still in bed with the chills.
"There's no way Gloria wrote this!" Ophelia hisses. "She wants to be queen! This has to be a mistake!"
Peter reads over the letter again.
High King Peter,
When you read this, I will be far gone. I found work and boarding at a textile shop while visiting with Queen Susan. I'm going to become a better seamstress, and marriage to a king would get in the way of that.
I do not wish to be queen. I have talked to Luna and she has helped me with arrangements. Please seek her out for details.
Thank you for your kindness. Sorry for the lack of mine.
Lady Gloria.
There'san unexplainable feeling of relief rushing through his veins, and not even Lady Ophelia's tantrum can quench it. "It has Lady Gloria's personal seal," he says. "I will speak with my sister, Queen Susan. I insist you return to your room to rest."
Lady Ophelia huffs and turns on her heel, escaping towards the bedrooms.
Peter watches her go, listens to the clack of her heels get quieter with each moment, and feels joy pour over his shoulders.
He runs into Susan's parlor. "Su! Is it true?"
Susan is already standing, her pale pink gown accentuating her glowing cheeks. Her broad grin matches her brother's. "She came to the decision on her own! I dare say she wasn't as interested in being queen as her mother said."
"I should've known!" Peter laughs in hindsight. "She insulted everything about me and Narnia! Not that it was right — but it certainly made me less fond of her."
"Now you're free," Susan says, barely a whisper over the Narnian winds that pass through the open windowpane.
"Right." Peter says. "Free." The word feels strange on his tongue. He's not sure he ever was free, being king and all. He's still shouldered with the responsibility of a nation. He's still in charge of preventing wars and keeping people fed. But he's free to love who he chooses.
And he chooses Luna.
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When Luna was young, and her mother was angry, she would hide. Sometimes to her father's study, where he would let her mull over his maps until she fell asleep, drooling over illustrations of the eastern sea.
