Peter Pevensie

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You wiped your brow as you looked up at the sun. It was a hot day and you still had to milk the cows. With a sigh, you stood, taking the basket of veggies with you into the little cottage house sitting on the top of the hill. You looked at the goods in the pantry and winced. You will need to go into town, the one think you despised doing the most, besides cleaning out the chicken coop. The people there never really accepted you after your foster parent had died five years ago. Now it was just you, the cottage, and the small farm.

Your milk cow, Tracy, mooed in the distance and the chickens clucked, reminding you of the chores you still needed to do.

"Just a moment Tracy. I need to make a list of things to get in town."

And you did just that.







Then at the very bottom;


You may have what was necessary to live but having a family was the one thing you most desperately wanted. Tracy mooed again and you hurried and pocketed your list before running off to milk the sweet cow. Then off to the town where you had to somehow get what you needed with what little money you had.


Peter missed being able to walk among a crowd and not be singled out as the High King. When Edmond had become too sick to check on the outlying towns around Cair Paravale, Peter jumped at the chance. Being a king lost its excitement and charm after six years and he was yearning for the chance to do something more than go to meetings or read mounds of legal papers. Thankfully, being an outlying town, they didn't know what he looked like yet, but his civilian clothes helped him seem like a passing local.

He smiled as he passed people, taking in the sights and sounds. A row of fruit venders caught his eye.

"Why hello! You are an unfamiliar face."

Peter smiled as he walked up to the apple vender who called out to him. "Yes, I'm just passing through."

"Well, perfect! You will find no better apples in town or anywhere else. That is, unless you go to Cair Paravale and eat among the Kings and Queens."

Peter hid a smirk. He had just paid for a delicious apple when he heard raised voices just a bit down the row of venders. A young woman dressed like a milk maid was being yelled at by a woman who was selling threads. It looked like the young woman was used to the onslaught of words but kindly tried to get her thread.

"Oh, dear. It's her again."

Peter turned to the apple vender. "Excuse me but what's the matter?"

The apple vender gave him a pitying look though he had a feeling it wasn't for him. "Oh that's (Y/n). She thinks herself high and mighty. Tries to take our goods for such thieving prices she does." The other fruit venders nodded in agreement. "She's a hermit of sorts. Never leaves her home. But when she's here she's all smiles and throwing herself at men right and left. Paa! I say good riddance to her family."

Peter was shocked how harshly they spoke of her and was about to ask why when a burly man came of the neighboring spices shop. He brandished a broom and raised it as if the strike the milk maid. But she stood her ground. Peter surged forward and guarded the woman, raising an arm, taking the brunt of the hit. Her hand reached out and took his arm that held her back and he glanced at her. Fear filled her (e/c) eyes and he was filled with an overpowering need to protect her.

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