𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝑨𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑, peter pevensie

𝒙𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊 . . . misscommunication

𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 that Charlotte and Peter were fighting. Louise and Edmund had, on multiple occasions, to be held back by Charlotte or Susan from yelling at Peter until their throats were dry and their voices hoarse. Lucy was under the impression neither of the two twenty two year olds were at fault, despite what they may have shouted at each other.

None of the Lords, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, or even Louise were exactly sure what happened between the two, but sides had already been chosen. Lucy remained neutral ( "I'm sorry, but I'm remaining a Switzerland- I'll explain a bit later, Mr Tumnus. How abut over a cup of tea and some biscuits?" ) Louise and Edmund were firmly planted to the ground behind Charlotte, while Susan chose to stand by her brother. So did the council, but that was to be expected. The Lords and Charlotte hated each other, and they did so with a similar burning passion.

However, this split between elite and nobility hindered the effectivity of the council, not one single decision had been made in the past month. The dispute had begun back in October, and it was now December.

It was a shame really, Christmas was quickly approaching, and the sour mood of two brought a downer of the festive atmosphere upon many. Charlotte was rather a great deal put out, as Christmas was usually the time she and Peter would go for days out in the newly wintery paths of the Western Woods. It was likely she would either just go alone, or wander the expansive library on her own. But there was one thing for sure, neither choice would make up for the day with Peter.

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ended in complete and utter uproar. The beginning had been bearable, all it was, was a simple task; listening to Lord Richard drone on and on about the way peasants were treating with upmost disrespect on the Lone Islands. It was nothing a simple deal, ( with a few underlying details expertly hid by the fine print at the very end of the contract ) couldn't fix.

Then came the announcement of the bi-annual meeting for signing treaty's, pacts, and alliances held in the home of Lord William in Galma. Again, a simple solution. Charlotte nodded her head and wrote her name at the end of the yellowing parchment with a flourish of the quill.

Then came the real disaster. The prompt to start the ticking bomb that was Charlotte.

A particularly lengthy petition was shoved under her nose by Lord Thomas, but it had to be pushed back in order for it to be read. Charlotte's green eyes scanned down the parchment, and they began to widen as she progressed further and further along.

"I'm sorry, but there's not one single chance I'm signing that. Not even for Aslan's mane. No."

"Come on, Lottie. Just sign it." Peter replaced the parchment for a quill already dipped in ink, prepared for her to flourish her signature.