"What were you and (R/1) talking about?" Edmund asks, as his brother walks into his private room.

"Nothing," Peter says, tugging his vest open.

Edmund knows their conversation was not nothing. He couldn't hear all of what they had talked about, but he understood the mood it had left on. And as much as Edmund was worrying about how (R/1) is feeling, he was more focused on his brother's emotions right now.

"What did you say?" Edmund asks again.

"I set her straight." Peter sighs, climbing out of his trousers.

"What about?"

"What do you think?"

Peter throws his clothes over one of the chairs in his brother's room.

"What did she say?" Edmund asks.

"What could she say?" Peter shrugs.

"A lot of things."

"She didn't say anything." Peter climbs into his side of the bed, secretly hating that he's sleeping in the wedding present he originally gave to Edmund and (R/1). "Don't worry."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Goodnight, Edmund." Peter huffs, turning to face the opposite direction.

Edmund sighs and lies back down on his bed; grabbing the sheets and pulling the majority of them over his body.

"Goodnight, Peter."

xxx

It was getting later into the night and Peter hadn't shut his eyes once. His mind was swirling with thoughts about (R/1). About what they had told each other and what he had felt when they did. He's never opened up to someone about who he truly is. He's never had to before. The ones that truly know him are his siblings, and even Caspian. He was there during a tough period of Peter's life.

A lot had happened in Peter's life. How could his life be anything but filled with moments? He used to think about his future and how bleak it would be. How he would have to look after his family and get a job to provide for the people he cares about. But he stopped thinking of those things after he arrived in Narnia.

At first, he hadn't imagined life in this magical land as a permanent thing. But then he and his siblings had stayed. Peter was ready to face the reality of England, the thought of going back home and no longer being a King, but they never left.

Peter has always wondered why Aslan has let them stay for so long. Was there a reason why they were still in Narnia? Did Peter have a certain destiny that he was unfamiliar with? Was his destiny to marry (R/1)?

No. It's not. Peter can't even believe he had even entertained the idea. But it was fortunate timing that he had brought his attention away from his thoughts, as when he did he heard footsteps outside of Edmund's door. Peter listens intently as he hears the figure linger by the door and then retreat back down the hallway, entering a room and closing its door.

Peter's head rises up and he swings his feet off of the side of Edmund's bed. Then he walks over and opens the door, peeking his head outside to see who had come and gone. But he should have known already that it was (R/1). And if he still was having difficulty knowing who it was, then the book that lay at his feet gave him the answer.

It's the very same book that (R/1) had told him she had written their love story in. He bends down slowly and picks the book up in his hands. As he straightens up, he flips open the book to the first page. He can't exactly see in the dark, but he can make out the shape of a heart and writing scribbled underneath.

Immediately Peter slaps the book shut. He shouldn't be reading this. He shakes his head and then quietly walks down the hallway over to his room, and he places the book down by the door. Then he turns back around and walks into Edmund's private room; quickly making his way back into the bed and getting himself comfortable.

But after a few minutes, Peter finds that he still cannot sleep. And so he gets up and grabs the book he had left down the hallway, and he takes it with him to the other end of the castle. He walks out into the gardens and sits on the stone bench he had brought (R/1) to a few days earlier.

The book itself wasn't in good condition. The pages were barely holding together at the seams, and the cover used wasn't strong leather or wood but rather a slightly rougher paper. Peter felt as if he could tear the book just by holding it in his hands, but he made sure to be as gentle as he could be with it.

On the cover of the book was a sketch of flowers, all scratchy and below par. Peter huffs gently as he imagines children having drawn it. Then he flicks open the book again and gets a better look at the page with the moonlight above him. And he was right about one thing; there was a heart on the page. And in the center of the heart was a sketch of him.

It wasn't just any sketch, it was the sketch. The one Edmund had sent off to (R/1) instead of his own. The sketch that was the entire reason why (R/1) had come here in the first place. Or maybe it was the words Edmund had written so heartfeltly in his letter of proposal. As much as Peter would like to think that it was true, he knew it was the former.

Peter's mouth twitches upwards into a smile as he looks at his face inside of the fabric heart. He's never seen anything like this before. He's always had women falling at his feet-- and yes he enjoyed each and every one of them-- but none of them had obsessed to the point of associating him with hearts. He almost feels warm at the thought.

My love's arms are like the branches of the olive tree. His legs, columns of marble. And his smile like the morning sun. This is our story.

Peter's eyes follow each word without hesitation. It's almost as if he has read this story before. And the story is not one he had originally imagined when (R/1) had told him of it. He expected to read about him rescuing her, or them meeting at a ball, or perhaps even her rescuing him. But that was not at all what was written.

They had met at the seashore of the place she grew up in, she had written. He was a sailor whose ship of one crew member had hit the sharp rocks in the ocean and was left stranded on the shoreline. She had been sitting on the hills when she noticed his ship crash, and so she made her way over to it. As she approached, he had stepped out of the boat with a basket of fishnets and rope. He threw it onto the sand and then looked over at her, and both of their hearts had skipped a beat.

Peter smiles and flicks the page over to read more. He is so engrossed in the story that he hadn't noticed (R/1) watching him from the door that enters the gardens. She slowly sits down on the ground and waits to see his reactions.

The story continued with many passages about the days they shared together, and how (R/1) felt that destiny had paired them both. Each page had a sketch on them of something that corresponds with what was written; like a ship for when the two of them had met, a moon for when she had thought of him instead of sleeping, and a female figure whose hair was blowing in the wind for when they were back on the beach.

Everything that was written was so pure. So innocent. There was no lust or adventure, no thrills of being covert or moments of bliss between them both late at night. It was a simple story of love and what love can do to two people. How love is stronger than anything else.

When Peter flicks the page over, a small wildflower falls from the page and onto his lap. He takes hold of it and raises it up to see it better. It was very delicate, being a soft shade of pink with blond veins. He twirls the wildflower in his fingers and then looks back down at the page to see what was written. It was supposedly the flower he had given to her before they shared their first kiss.

There were entries of the two of them walking hand and hand down the beach as the sunset. There were moments the two of them shared before they said goodnight. There was a day when the two of them rode their horses up the hill where a castle was situated. It was there that Peter had first told (R/1) that he was in love with her. And when he read these words, he didn't feel awkward at all. He felt sure.

The ocean took my love away from me-- far, far away. It was my destiny. And now I must cry an ocean of tears until one day he comes back to me.

Peter's heart almost breaks as he reads what was the end of their love story. He had been sent off to war, and sailed away by the boat he had crashed in-- all repaired and once again sea-worthy. On the final page was a large sketch of (R/1) and what Peter assumes to be her family on her wedding day. She looks beautiful even on paper. Peter couldn't help but feel empty as he remembers the situation that they're in.

(R/1) married Edmund. Not him.