"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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The High King doesn't have to be awake until six in the morning, and Peter knows this. It doesn't keep his insomnia from ruining his nights, causing him to be wide awake at four. He stays in bed anyway, with nothing really to do.
Most mornings like this, he'll go for a swim to energize himself, or go practice his swordsmanship. Sometimes he'll stay in his room and study until his advisors enter his room and bring him to that day's meeting.
This morning, though, he knows there will be no time for a midday nap, despite the realm's encouragement for one. The spring festival begins today, and with it, nearly an entire month of festivities. Peter doesn't mind the occasional ball here or there, but he's been personally subjected to Susan and Ed's party planning over the past few months, and he can tell this month will be no different. Maybe worse.
Most of the realm's nobles will be arriving at Cair Paravel today. Rooms in the castle have been prepared for them, and Peter knows he will be expected to greet them upon arrival, along with his siblings.
He groans into his cotton pillowcase. As thankful to Aslan as he is for crowning him High King, there are days when he wishes the merciful lion would've just gifted them a comfortable cottage by the Eastern Sea.
He shouldn't be ungrateful. Here he is, snuggled into bed where satin sheets meet his bare skin. He has luxuries he never dreamed he could afford, and yet something feels missing.
Peter rubs his eyes, turns on his back and stares at the painted ceiling of his chambers. His lips part, and he lets out a long sigh. He's just tired. All of this sporadic sleep has been getting to him. That's it.
He moves the heavy covers off of him and manages to sit at the edge of his bed. He can see a glimpse of himself in the vanity mirror across the room, and he acknowledges the cowlick in his hair from tossing and turning all night.
His eyes are still blue, but they've gotten darker over time. More morose, but Peter supposes being a king will do that to you.
A knock at his door startles Peter from his thoughts. He clears his throat, "Come in!"
It's Susan, fully dressed in a royal blue gown. The sleeve openings are wide and billowing, and they drag across the bedroom floor when she walks towards her brother. "I can't believe you aren't even dressed yet. Lady Ophelia is here with her daughters! I told you they were getting here early and— Peter, at least do something with your hair."
Peter pats his down hair self-consciously. "Tell them I'm sorry for the delay, and I'll be there in ten minutes."
Susan rushes to the king's armoire. "No. I'm getting you dressed in five."
