Lavender (Chapter One - Perfume)
Title: Lavender
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Author: Author: rainbowsfics [aka RainbowsArePretty]
Rating: T
Warnings: Incest
Pairings (if applicable) Peter/Susan, hints of Lucy/Edmund
Character(s) (if applicable) Peter, Susan
Story Summary: She smells like lavender. How curious.
Notes: Chapter one of four.
She smells like lavender.
How curious.
It wasn’t something that took Peter by surprise one day, but rather, the subtle notes of it began to wound their way around him every time she was near. To be honest, he was much too preoccupied to notice his sister Susan’s new perfume (was it perfume? It smelled too natural for it to be perfume) during his adventure into Narnia.
Much too busy he was, talking to lions and badgers, fighting in a war, and pinching himself to see if it was a dream (it wasn’t.)
The first time he really gave it any thought was before the battle, after he had slain the wolf, and after Susan had come down the tree (fell, really, was more like it), and he stumbled towards her until he could form some semblance of catching her. Instead, in a very un-Peter-like way he twists his ankle until he crumples to the ground, Susan in his arms. He knows that he’s holding her too tight, but he doesn’t care, and he’s fairly certain that she doesn’t either.
Somehow, he makes it back to the base of tree, tugging her along with him. Susan’s in her lap now, and he keeps smoothing down her dark, flowing hair. He’s sure that the action is reassuring to her, but it was really intended to reassure himself, that she’s still alive. She is.
He’s murmuring her name over and over again, rocking her gently, but he can’t hear his own words over her wracking sobs. She stops for a moment, seemingly out of tears. She breathes harshly in hollow pants, and slowly looks up at him.
Her eyes are bloodshot, a result of both the threat of death and relief at surviving. She hugs him properly now, and buries her face in his neck, and my instinct he dips his head to nuzzle he hair. He breathes deeply, once, twice, and now he’s sure that she’s smells like lavender, like that flowers that his mother loved so.
He tells her of his newest revelation and she lets out something that is a cross between a sob and a laugh and he feels that last of her tears making their way down his shoulder. By now, everyone else has turned away to give them some privacy in their moment of weakness. She lifts her head and, in a moment of sheer desperation, plants kisses all over his face. He allows this moment to happen for both of them, this foray into the land of un-siblingly behavior because they need it; they need this reassurance.
The second time she smells like lavender is during the ball celebrating their coronation. All of his siblings are in proper royal clothing, and now proudly wear titles such as, Gentle, Valiant, Just, and of course Magnificent.
He’s sure he doesn’t let it show, but he resents his title a bit. After all, what does it mean, really, to be Magnificent? Gentle, Valiant, Just - all of those are titles befitting a royal ruler, but what is it to be Magnificent? Those thoughts are shoved to the side when he sees Susan dancing with him.
His name is Nolan, that much Peter can remember, and he’s prince of Archenland. A bitter feeling rises up in him. Instantly, he writes it off as being a surge of over protectiveness, instead of a burning flame of jealousy.
He instantly rises up (because a King does not get up, a King rises) from his chair and makes his way across the ballroom floor.
What does this prince think he’s doing with his Susan? With his twelve year old sister? While, yes, the prince is four years older than the High King, making him seventeen, this does not dissuade him or his mission to keep this prince away from Cair Paravel as possible.
The room suddenly seems larger than it actually is, and he stops for a moment, in the dead center of the floor, because as he glaring the Archenland prince, he is sure the he read the words “court” and “marry” dance upon his lips.
He’s running, now, towards her, just in time to see her shake her and apologize for rejecting her offer. Nolan’s eyes flare angrily, but he seems relieved to see Peter there.
“Aah, High King Peter, thank Aslan you are here. Could you talk some sense into your sister? I have just asked her hand in marriage after, of course, a brief courting period,” Nolan says, in his lightly accented voice.
Peter’s heart stops, and his breath catches. His mind connects the dots, and he realizes what Prince Nolan is - literally - proposing. With a brief glance at Susan, his mind is made up.
“No, no. Definitely, absolutely, no,” he manages to say.
Now Prince Nolan really is angry, and he’s without the decency to hide it. “With all due respect, King Peter, this marriage would strengthened ties in both our countries, and would strengthen Narnians’ faith in the new rulers. Besides, I believe that Susan and I could be very happy together.”
“First of all,” Peter spats out, losing his calm High King demeanor, “It’s High Queen Susan to you -”
“And second of all,” Susan continues, finishing his sentence like they used to do when they were younger, when they were best friends, “there is no way in this world, or in any other, that I would marry you. Have a pleasant evening, Prince Nolan.”
With this she walks away from them both, leaving Peter staring at her in a bit of awe. He glances around briefly and realizes that most of the floor is empty. Mr. Tumnus is walking towards the exit, wishing a good evening to both the beavers. Lucy is half-asleep, leaning on Edmund as he leads them both towards their chambers.
Prince Nolan, cursing and grumbling under his breath, nearly knocks Mr. Tumnus over as he shoves his way through the small exiting crowd, to his awaiting carriage.
Peter, in his eternal gracefulness, stumbles after Susan, half-heartedly waving good-bye’s to the remaining guests. Tripping over a chair, he exits the ballroom and makes his way into a corridor that holds four bedchambers.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he notes that he hears the giggling of his two youngest siblings coming from Lucy’s bedchamber, and wonders for a moment if they’re actually getting along for once. While the thought brings a smile to his lips, he continues on the path that he was on before.
He makes his way to Susan’s bedchamber, and unconsciously traces the etched words on the wooden door.
“High Queen Susan Pevensie,” he murmurs, and then proceeds knock on the door, sliding of his crown in the process, the façade of a king slipping away as easily, and the articulate royal language forgotten as the cockney, quick witted cadence comes back easily.
“Oy, Su,” he knocks, “Open up, it’s Peter.”
The door opens, and Susan leans on the doorframe. She’s wearing the pink nightgown their mother gave her the past Christmas. Peter can remember the look on his sister’s face when she opened it, because she, along with the rest of them, never expected to receive something so expensive during the war.
What neither Peter nor their mother told her was that Peter had found a job with a nearby bakery afterschool, when Susan believed he was at Chess club, to pay for his younger siblings’ gifts.
“Peter?” Susan asks drowsily. Wordlessly, she lets him pass inside, and he hops atop the luxurious bed. She closes the door, and leans on it, arms crossed and a bemused smile on her face.
He leans back, folding his arms behind his head and turning slightly, just enough to smell the lavender. Soundlessly, she moves to the opposite side of the bed lies down next to him.
“Peter?” she murmurs quietly, moving closer to him.
He turns slightly so that he’s facing her fully, and responds, “Yeah, Su?”
She fidgets for a moment, as if trying to find a comfortable position, when she’s really trying to find comfortable words.
“Thanks for, you know, standing up for me against, um, Prince Nolan,” she says. She sits up a bit, just enough for her to look him in the eye.
“It was,” she continues, “truly Magnificent.”
His eyes widen slightly at the mention of his title, and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come to him. Suddenly he thinks that being Magnificent isn’t really so bad at all, not really. She scoots closer to him and rests her head on his chest like she used to do when they were children. Throughout their admittedly short time so far in Narnia, he’s noticed (and he’s sure she has too) that they’ve grown closer together, more closer than siblings would generally be accepeted.
“Anything for you, Su,” he murmurs, and runs his fingers through her hair. As he does, he swears that the lavender perfume is getting stronger.
“Peter, could you stay here for tonight?” she asks, timidly.
Peter turns on his side slightly, until he is face level with the candle she keeps by her bed. Carefully, he blows it out, and they are engulfed in darkness.
Peter pulls the covers over both of them, and wraps his arms around her, like he used to when she was younger and she had a nightmare.
“’Night, Peter,” she murmurs sleepily, placing a chaste kiss on his jawline, “Love you.”
He returns the favor, kissing her temple lightly. “Good night, Susan. Love you, too.”
Hours later, Peter is woken up by harsh sunlight coming in through the windows. He stretches out languidly, and can’t help but be disappointed at the fact that Susan isn’t with him. He doesn’t get out of the bed until he realizes with a smile that Mr. Tumnus had invited the two Queens to breakfast.
Making his way to the breakfast table, he has an unusual skip in his step. He greets Edmund pleasantly, ignoring the questioningly raised eyebrows. His brother slouches in his chair, and after finishing the last of his breakfast, excuses himself and makes his way to the stables. Momentarily, he pauses beside Peter and frowns, smelling the air and shaking his head as if to rid himself of confusion and continues walking.
Peter turns his head to the side, smelling his own shirt, and then smiles, finding the source of his brother’s bewilderment.
He smells like lavender.
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Author: Author: rainbowsfics [aka RainbowsArePretty]
Rating: T
Warnings: Incest
Pairings (if applicable) Peter/Susan, hints of Lucy/Edmund
Character(s) (if applicable) Peter, Susan
Story Summary: She smells like lavender. How curious.
Notes: Chapter one of four.
She smells like lavender.
How curious.
It wasn’t something that took Peter by surprise one day, but rather, the subtle notes of it began to wound their way around him every time she was near. To be honest, he was much too preoccupied to notice his sister Susan’s new perfume (was it perfume? It smelled too natural for it to be perfume) during his adventure into Narnia.
Much too busy he was, talking to lions and badgers, fighting in a war, and pinching himself to see if it was a dream (it wasn’t.)
The first time he really gave it any thought was before the battle, after he had slain the wolf, and after Susan had come down the tree (fell, really, was more like it), and he stumbled towards her until he could form some semblance of catching her. Instead, in a very un-Peter-like way he twists his ankle until he crumples to the ground, Susan in his arms. He knows that he’s holding her too tight, but he doesn’t care, and he’s fairly certain that she doesn’t either.
Somehow, he makes it back to the base of tree, tugging her along with him. Susan’s in her lap now, and he keeps smoothing down her dark, flowing hair. He’s sure that the action is reassuring to her, but it was really intended to reassure himself, that she’s still alive. She is.
He’s murmuring her name over and over again, rocking her gently, but he can’t hear his own words over her wracking sobs. She stops for a moment, seemingly out of tears. She breathes harshly in hollow pants, and slowly looks up at him.
Her eyes are bloodshot, a result of both the threat of death and relief at surviving. She hugs him properly now, and buries her face in his neck, and my instinct he dips his head to nuzzle he hair. He breathes deeply, once, twice, and now he’s sure that she’s smells like lavender, like that flowers that his mother loved so.
He tells her of his newest revelation and she lets out something that is a cross between a sob and a laugh and he feels that last of her tears making their way down his shoulder. By now, everyone else has turned away to give them some privacy in their moment of weakness. She lifts her head and, in a moment of sheer desperation, plants kisses all over his face. He allows this moment to happen for both of them, this foray into the land of un-siblingly behavior because they need it; they need this reassurance.
The second time she smells like lavender is during the ball celebrating their coronation. All of his siblings are in proper royal clothing, and now proudly wear titles such as, Gentle, Valiant, Just, and of course Magnificent.
He’s sure he doesn’t let it show, but he resents his title a bit. After all, what does it mean, really, to be Magnificent? Gentle, Valiant, Just - all of those are titles befitting a royal ruler, but what is it to be Magnificent? Those thoughts are shoved to the side when he sees Susan dancing with him.
His name is Nolan, that much Peter can remember, and he’s prince of Archenland. A bitter feeling rises up in him. Instantly, he writes it off as being a surge of over protectiveness, instead of a burning flame of jealousy.
He instantly rises up (because a King does not get up, a King rises) from his chair and makes his way across the ballroom floor.
What does this prince think he’s doing with his Susan? With his twelve year old sister? While, yes, the prince is four years older than the High King, making him seventeen, this does not dissuade him or his mission to keep this prince away from Cair Paravel as possible.
The room suddenly seems larger than it actually is, and he stops for a moment, in the dead center of the floor, because as he glaring the Archenland prince, he is sure the he read the words “court” and “marry” dance upon his lips.
He’s running, now, towards her, just in time to see her shake her and apologize for rejecting her offer. Nolan’s eyes flare angrily, but he seems relieved to see Peter there.
“Aah, High King Peter, thank Aslan you are here. Could you talk some sense into your sister? I have just asked her hand in marriage after, of course, a brief courting period,” Nolan says, in his lightly accented voice.
Peter’s heart stops, and his breath catches. His mind connects the dots, and he realizes what Prince Nolan is - literally - proposing. With a brief glance at Susan, his mind is made up.
“No, no. Definitely, absolutely, no,” he manages to say.
Now Prince Nolan really is angry, and he’s without the decency to hide it. “With all due respect, King Peter, this marriage would strengthened ties in both our countries, and would strengthen Narnians’ faith in the new rulers. Besides, I believe that Susan and I could be very happy together.”
“First of all,” Peter spats out, losing his calm High King demeanor, “It’s High Queen Susan to you -”
“And second of all,” Susan continues, finishing his sentence like they used to do when they were younger, when they were best friends, “there is no way in this world, or in any other, that I would marry you. Have a pleasant evening, Prince Nolan.”
With this she walks away from them both, leaving Peter staring at her in a bit of awe. He glances around briefly and realizes that most of the floor is empty. Mr. Tumnus is walking towards the exit, wishing a good evening to both the beavers. Lucy is half-asleep, leaning on Edmund as he leads them both towards their chambers.
Prince Nolan, cursing and grumbling under his breath, nearly knocks Mr. Tumnus over as he shoves his way through the small exiting crowd, to his awaiting carriage.
Peter, in his eternal gracefulness, stumbles after Susan, half-heartedly waving good-bye’s to the remaining guests. Tripping over a chair, he exits the ballroom and makes his way into a corridor that holds four bedchambers.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he notes that he hears the giggling of his two youngest siblings coming from Lucy’s bedchamber, and wonders for a moment if they’re actually getting along for once. While the thought brings a smile to his lips, he continues on the path that he was on before.
He makes his way to Susan’s bedchamber, and unconsciously traces the etched words on the wooden door.
“High Queen Susan Pevensie,” he murmurs, and then proceeds knock on the door, sliding of his crown in the process, the façade of a king slipping away as easily, and the articulate royal language forgotten as the cockney, quick witted cadence comes back easily.
“Oy, Su,” he knocks, “Open up, it’s Peter.”
The door opens, and Susan leans on the doorframe. She’s wearing the pink nightgown their mother gave her the past Christmas. Peter can remember the look on his sister’s face when she opened it, because she, along with the rest of them, never expected to receive something so expensive during the war.
What neither Peter nor their mother told her was that Peter had found a job with a nearby bakery afterschool, when Susan believed he was at Chess club, to pay for his younger siblings’ gifts.
“Peter?” Susan asks drowsily. Wordlessly, she lets him pass inside, and he hops atop the luxurious bed. She closes the door, and leans on it, arms crossed and a bemused smile on her face.
He leans back, folding his arms behind his head and turning slightly, just enough to smell the lavender. Soundlessly, she moves to the opposite side of the bed lies down next to him.
“Peter?” she murmurs quietly, moving closer to him.
He turns slightly so that he’s facing her fully, and responds, “Yeah, Su?”
She fidgets for a moment, as if trying to find a comfortable position, when she’s really trying to find comfortable words.
“Thanks for, you know, standing up for me against, um, Prince Nolan,” she says. She sits up a bit, just enough for her to look him in the eye.
“It was,” she continues, “truly Magnificent.”
His eyes widen slightly at the mention of his title, and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come to him. Suddenly he thinks that being Magnificent isn’t really so bad at all, not really. She scoots closer to him and rests her head on his chest like she used to do when they were children. Throughout their admittedly short time so far in Narnia, he’s noticed (and he’s sure she has too) that they’ve grown closer together, more closer than siblings would generally be accepeted.
“Anything for you, Su,” he murmurs, and runs his fingers through her hair. As he does, he swears that the lavender perfume is getting stronger.
“Peter, could you stay here for tonight?” she asks, timidly.
Peter turns on his side slightly, until he is face level with the candle she keeps by her bed. Carefully, he blows it out, and they are engulfed in darkness.
Peter pulls the covers over both of them, and wraps his arms around her, like he used to when she was younger and she had a nightmare.
“’Night, Peter,” she murmurs sleepily, placing a chaste kiss on his jawline, “Love you.”
He returns the favor, kissing her temple lightly. “Good night, Susan. Love you, too.”
Hours later, Peter is woken up by harsh sunlight coming in through the windows. He stretches out languidly, and can’t help but be disappointed at the fact that Susan isn’t with him. He doesn’t get out of the bed until he realizes with a smile that Mr. Tumnus had invited the two Queens to breakfast.
Making his way to the breakfast table, he has an unusual skip in his step. He greets Edmund pleasantly, ignoring the questioningly raised eyebrows. His brother slouches in his chair, and after finishing the last of his breakfast, excuses himself and makes his way to the stables. Momentarily, he pauses beside Peter and frowns, smelling the air and shaking his head as if to rid himself of confusion and continues walking.
Peter turns his head to the side, smelling his own shirt, and then smiles, finding the source of his brother’s bewilderment.
He smells like lavender.