The palace is quiet this early. The sun only just beginning to crest the horizon. Since the morning after the great battle I've been waking to watch the sunrise. Feeling the fledgling rays charge my magic. Leaning over the stone edge of the balcony the salty sea air ruffles my unbound hair and fills my nose with its familiar scent.

It smells like home, the land of my ancestors. I never thought I would smell the salt again, never thought I would feel this connected again.

I hear steps behind me, trying to be soft and silent but failing. I feel my mouth pull up in the corners, a small smile spreading across my face.

Peter leans against the edge of the balcony next to me, gazing out at the ocean.

I let my gaze slide to his and take in his features. His eyes are so piercing in the early morning light, and his hair appears gilded. The cut at the edge of his brow is healing nicely, turned into a dark coloured scab. Perhaps it'll scar, perhaps not.

The cut I received from the hag will most definitely scar. Lucy offered some healing cordial, but I declined. I never want to forget.

"You're up early." Peter says softly.

"As are you, you're majesty." I answer.

"I thought we had a deal, Princess Cressida." He chuckles, looking sidelong at me.

I nudge his shoulder gently with mine.

"Nervous?" I ask.

"Who me?" He laughs. "Of course I am."

"You'll make a great King, Peter; you've already proven that ten-fold."

"I'm just a boy from Finchley."

"And I'm just a girl from a faraway land."

"You were born a Princess."

"And you are the prophesied King; everything happens for a reason, Peter." I offer gently.

He places a warm hand over mine, rubbing his thumb softly against the back of my hand.

"What will you do now it's all over?"

"Aslan has sent word to my people; my brothers may already be on their way."

"Will you leave with them?" He asks quietly.

"I don't know," I say softly. "I am half Narnian, making you my king; you could decide for me."

"I could never tell you what to do. You've suffered that enough."

"Peter, whatever...whatever this is...you're about to be King. You can't afford distractions now."

"You're not just some meaningless distraction."

"I want to stay..."

"Then stay. You'll be valuable council for us."

"I'll think about it, but Peter, we should put whatever is between us aside."

He looks dejected.

"For now. Give yourself some time to settle into your role, and we'll figure it out from there."

"I understand."

I turn and cup his check. His skin is so warm beneath my fingers and his eyes are so full of longing.

Gently, reverently I press my lips to his, only for a moment before pulling away.

His eyes soften, and he traces a finger lightly down the cut on my face, stitches holding together the split skin.

"What was that for?" He asks, barely a breathy whisper.

I let my mouth pull into a sad smile. A knowing smile. One that says that I wish things were easier.

"It was purely selfish...it won't happen again."

The sun has well risen and all are assembled in the great hall. The four thrones stand imposing on the dais. I stand at the foot of the marble steps, Mr Tumnus on my right and Ephe on my left. My gown is a deep purple, embroidered with gold and finer than anything I've ever worn in my life. I wear no crown, but Ephe has braided my hair into a circlet and studded it with pearls.

Trumpets blare, and the great doors at the end of the throne room open. The four children and Aslan process down the central aisle. They look radiant. Edmund and Susan in silver, Lucy in white and Peter in deep navy blue and gold. They pass us, and Ephe and I dip into curtseys.

As the four reach their thrones, they turn to face the assembled crowd.

"To the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant." Aslan recites.

Tumnus ascends the steps to retrieve the first of the crowns from a velvet pillow held by Mrs Beaver. He places the silver crown on her head, crafted to look like delicate vines studded with flowers. Lucy grins at the faun, and I'm sure he grins back.

"To the great Western Wood, I give you King Edmund, the Just." Aslan continues.

Tumnus moves next to place a silver crown upon Edmund's brow.

Now it's my turn to walk up those marble steps and towards the two remaining crowns.

"To the radiant Southern Sky, I give you Queen Susan, the gentle."

I pick up the golden circlet carefully, a twin to Lucy's in all but colour and cross the dais to place it on Susan's head. The queen smiles softly, and I dip into a curtsey before moving back to the beavers and retrieving the final crown.

"And to the clear Northern Sky, I give you King Peter, the Magnificent."

The way Peter looks at me when I place the crown on his head nearly buckles my knees. He looks at me as though, at this moment, I'm the only thing that matters. He has to bend to let me put the crown atop his brow, and when he stands, a brilliant shaft of sunlight streams through the stained glass behind him.

I move off to the side, cautious not to trip on my gown.

The entire congregation bows to the rulers as they sit their thrones. I dip low until I'm practically sitting.

"Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens." Aslan concludes.

Cheering erupts, and the crowd stands, "Long live King Peter! Long live, King Edmund! Long live Queen Susan! Long live Queen Lucy!"

The celebrations run wild throughout the castle. A great feast was served at midday, and now, as the light begins to fade, I'm sure more food is being hastily prepared. I stand against a stone pillar near the open doors to one of the many balconies, a soft breeze rustling through the gossamer curtains.

Gazing out across the beach below us, I can see Aslan wandering away, his golden fur catching the light.

He spoke only to me before he left. I know it would have been too hard for him to speak to the others, to tell them he was leaving. They'd only try to convince him to stay.

"After all, he's not a tame lion." Mr Tumnus' voice floats in from the balcony.

He's with Lucy. Of course, she would be the one to notice; she notices everything it would seem. Aslan knew she'd be the most heartbroken. My heart pangs with a tiny ache for her; such a great capacity for kindness. Such a great capacity for love.

Someone clears their throat and snags my attention.

I slip my gaze back to the ballroom and the blue eyes staring back at me.

"Your majesty." I dip low.

"Princess Cressida, not enjoying the party?"

"No, no, of course I am." I offer quickly.

"You haven't moved from this spot in quite some time, and you've been nursing the same drink for longer."

He's right, the wine in my goblet is barely touched.

"Just watching the sunset, that's all."

"You look beautiful tonight."

"As opposed to every other night?" I quirk a brow.

"No, no, I-uh..."

"I'm teasing; thank you, Your Majesty."

"You don't have to keep calling me that."

"For tonight, I will; you're the High King, and you should be addressed as such."

Peter dips his gaze to his own feet, hands clasped behind his back. I've made him uncomfortable somehow.

Dammit.

"Peter, I..."

"Dance with me." He cuts me off.

I stare silently for a moment, and again, the young King clears his throat.

"I mean, would you do me the honour of a dance, Princess Cressida?"

I stare at his outstretched hand, then back to his face, before slipping my hand into his.