TOTR 😜👀🙈

𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀: 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐌

#𝟐: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐙 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑

(Picture above is art by us. It is of Princess Vivianne of Levefre.)

PETER'S POV:

I should have been watching the whole room. As High King, I was supposed to assess everything. Every alliance, every gesture, every whisper, everything that's in here.

But I wasn't. I was watching her.

The girl in sapphire.

No, the woman in sapphire.

Her movement didn't beg for attention like the others, it commanded it. Each step was intentional, as if the music obeyed her. Her veil shimmered, but she never used it to hide, only to hint.

But it was her eyes... those hazel, defiant eyes... those struck me hardest.

She looked like she didn't want to be admired. She looked like she wanted to challenge me. And I couldn't look away.

"That's my friend, remember? Princess Vivianne," Susan murmured beside me, almost reading my thoughts. "Vivianne the Valorous. Daughter of Levefre's crown."

Levefre. Of course.

The gemstone kingdom. Rich. Poweful. And... cold. Cair Paravel and Levefre had always been polite allies of Narnia, but tension always hummed beneath our treaties like a sword under silk.

"She's dangerous," Susan added softly, sipping her wine. "Smart. Unbending. And a little famous for turning down five noble suitors before the age of eighteen."

Dangerous. Unbending.

I almost smiled. That made two of us.

As the music swelled, Her movements shifted. Gone was the soft grace of the beginning. She spun sharp now, precise, like every step was a warning to anyone watching too closely. It's a ritual she didn't perform for us, but despite us. She didn't float like a dancer trained for court. No, she strode through the rhythm.

Her hands painted through the air, but they weren't delicate. They were measured. Like even the music had to earn the right to touch her. And yet, it felt like every motion was aimed directly at me.

She knew I was watching. No, she wanted me to. Not to impress, But to test. She wasn't here to be chosen. She was here to choose.

I leaned forward slightly in my seat. She danced like she owed nothing to anyone. She looked at me like she saw me straight through the mask I wore. I found my fingers curling on the armrest of the throne-like chair. This wasn't an allure. This was a message.

And in that moment, I knew one thing for certain:

This isn't a woman I could charm. This isn't someone I could win with a smile and titles.

This is a warrior in disguise.

My crown suddenly felt heavier.

"She's looking at you," Edmund murmured beside me, voice low.

"She's assessing me," I replied quietly, unable to pull my eyes away.

Susan gave a faint hum. "I think she's judging you."

"Let her..." I said, and I meant it.

She didn't want a prince or king to chase her. She wanted an equal to meet her halfway.

The music began to slow, a final dance before it will end. The veiled princesses moved in synchrony, their silhouettes melting into the flicker of candlelight like folding in at dusk. Each one poses in different ways, skirts fanned out, veils catching the soft moonlight in a shimmer ot quiet glory.

But my eyes could only focus to one. It was her, always her. Vivianne's sapphire dress glinted like starlight on a deep dark sea. The room held its breath.

Then she turned her face toward the audience, toward me. Not fully. Just enough for her hazel eyes to meet my blue ones across the expanse of marble and gold.

Applause erupted. Loudly. Cheers and laughters around.

But I barely heard it. Because in that look, there was no invitation. No flirtation. Just a challenge.

Even as the applause rose, I found myself scanning the room again. Foolish act of maybe... looking for her? But there was something about her performance, it didn't feel like a romantic at all, like it had been a challenge meant only for me.

I stood up and started to walk away... when a voice stop me.

"High King Peter," said by Lady Veraline.

"You look as though you've seen a ghost. Or perhaps... an angel?"

I turned and saw Veraline, her veil glinting as she tilted her head.

I offered a polite nod. "Lady Veraline. I trust you enjoyed the dance?"

"Oh, absolutely," she said, taking a slow sip from her glass. "It seems like you favored someone, High King."

I gave a tight smile. "Some performances are... harder to ignore than others."

She turned her head to the crowd while fixing her veil seductively. "Princess Vivianne. Quite the favorite tonight. Though I imagine she didn't mean to be."

I look at her in surprise. "You know her?"

"I heard of her," she said replied. "We happen to see one another, just don't know each other. She doesn't make friends easily. Doesn't believe in pleasantries."

"She seemed... Different." I said fixing my masks

She chuckled, "She is. Headstrong. Stubborn. Brilliant, though she'd never admit it. And if she is dancing for someone tonight, it's not for romance."

I looked at her. "No?"

She stepped closer, maybe a bit too close. "Her highness doesn't believe in fairy tales. She believes in victory. That dance? That was a sword wrapped in silk. A warning."

"A warning to whom?" | asked

"To anyone who thinks she can be won," Veraline said, eyes sharp beneath the mask "Especially kings."

There it was. That urge of strong power hidden in petals. I offered a measured smile.

"Well," I said, voice low, "I never said I wanted to win her."

She smirked. "Didn't you?"

I was stunned... didn't I? I questioned my thoughts.

"Enjoy your evening, Your Majesty. Do not despair, there are many more eligible women here." she said smoothly. "Careful, High King. Levefre may trade in gemstones, but their princess is pure fire."

She gave a polite bow saying, "Excuse me, I must go and find my twin sister." Before leaving me there with my thoughts.

3rd Person POV:

Vivianne swayed lightly to the music as various guests greeted her. She returned their pleasantries with a faint smile. As she turned with the rhythm, her gaze caught a particular guest clad in green. He was speaking rather seriously, though the men around him laughed heartily.

A boy with a neat bob of brown hair shifted uncomfortably, his warm brown eyes narrowing as he spoke. His cheeks were flushed a soft, rosy red, clear embarrassment. His pink lips pressed into a slight frown, standing out against his pale face. Compared to the broad-shouldered men surrounding him, he looked noticeably lanky and small. Rectangular glasses perched steadily on his nose, catching the light with each subtle movement of his head.

Curious, Vivianne subtly approached them, eager to know what they were discussing.

CLEM'S POV:

I sighed as the men I was supposed to consult regarding the new cannons His Majesty had commissioned burst into laughter. The stench of booze clung to them like a second skin. One of them, his mouth twisted into a sneer, said, "Well, I suppose His Majesty is a bit late. We've already made plans to trade our materials with another kingdom."

Another chimed in, "A better kingdom at that!" He let out a guttural laugh.

I clenched my fists. Of course. The Telmarines. Our sworn enemies. Who else could it be?

As their obnoxious laughter echoed in my ears, my gaze drifted-and caught on a breathtaking figure in sapphire blue. Even with a veil, her beauty was undeniable. She looked like royalty... perhaps even a princess. I quickly looked away, disappointed in myself for being so easily distracted. I serve His Majesty. I am his loyal subject. I cannot afford to lose focus now.

VIVIANNE'S POV:

I caught bits of their conversation.

The boy's from Sylvarren? I recalled my father mentioning them once during one of his many lectures.

As I swayed gently with the music, I accidentally bumped into a tall man who reeked of alcohol. I scrunched my nose at the stench. He looked at me with an unsettling grin, licked his chapped lips, and said, "Would you care to dance, my lady?" His voice was slow and slimy, sending chills down my spine.

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh no, I'm quite sorry, but I'm feeling unwell," I said, feigning a sickly expression.

Unfortunately, the fool didn't take the hint. "Well, how about we go out back? I have a few remedies with me," he said, stepping closer.

I was just about to kick him where it counts when he grabbed my hand. Before I could react further, a voice cut through the tension.

"Excuse me, lad, but the lady is with me."

It was the boy from earlier, the one with the brown hair and glasses. He was trying his best to maintain his composure, though I could tell he was seething.

PETER'S POV:

I was chatting with my siblings, but my thoughts were elsewhere, entirely preoccupied with the lady in sapphire blue. Her face had etched itself into my mind.

"Earth to Peter Pevensie, hellooo?" Lucy waved a hand in front of my face.

I blinked and turned to her. "Yes?"

She smiled knowingly. "You've been quiet ever since you've been staring at that beautiful lady. Don't tell me you're smitten?"

I cleared my throat. "Mind your own business, Lucy."

She giggled. My siblings thrived off my suffering.

Susan asked, "So... what do you make of Vivi? Aside from her otherworldly looks?"

How could I describe her? She was stunning, of course, but it wasn't just her appearance. Her presence was refreshing, like cool spring air. Even thinking about her made my heart race.

"Everything," I said without thinking, before sputtering, "I-I mean, she's quite a looker, and very pleasant to be around."

Edmund hummed, "You and your lies, Peter. Just admit you're in love."

Lucy joined in, dramatically falling to the ground. "Oh my sweet, when will I see you again?"

Edmund followed up with mock tragedy. "Soon, when the first drop of rain falls, my darling."

They both burst into laughter.

"Shut it, you two," I muttered, walking away as Susan tried, unsuccessfully, to scold them.

I scanned the crowd and caught sight of a sapphire veil. My heart leapt. It was her.

But my path was blocked by a noble who looked like he'd downed several crates of wine. He was speaking to her, far too closely. From where I stood, she looked uncomfortable.

Then he grabbed her hand.

My blood boiled. I shoved my way through the crowd, not bothering to apologize, only to halt when the boy from Sylvarren stepped in. He gently took her hand, spoke something to the man, and led her away to dance with a sheepish smile.

I silently thanked him. Still, I couldn't help the bitter taste of jealousy rising in my throat.

I glanced once more at the drunkard, my jaw tightening, and without a word, I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to a secluded area.

3rd person POV:

Clem and Vivianne stood at the dance floor before slowly swaying to the beat of the music. Concern shadowed his face.

"Are you alright? He didn't do anything else to you, did he?" he asked, his voice low but tight with worry. "Men like him always think they can get what they want...It's disgusting."

He muttered more under his breath until Vivianne interrupted, smiling warmly.

"Thank you—for what you did. If you hadn't stepped in, that man would've ended up on the floor covered in bruises." She added with a wink, "I may not look strong, but looks can be deceiving, don't you think?"

Clem looked at her with wonder. "Are you from Levefre?"

Vivianne blinked, slightly taken aback, then nodded.

"Wait... if you are, then you're—You're Highness!" he stammered, quickly bowing his head.

Vivianne stood awkwardly, then said, "There's no need for that. You may call me Vivianne."

Clem raised his head slowly, looking a bit flustered. "Ah... alright, Vivianne." He straightened his posture. "It's an honor to meet you. My name is Clem. I serve His Majesty of Sylvarren."

After introductions, the two began to talk

—lightly at first, then more comfortably— until a commanding voice interrupted.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

It was Peter.

Vivianne turned in recognition, then glanced at Clem, who offered her a small, reassuring smile and waved his hand dismissively.

She returned his smile with a faint apology and placed her hand in Peter's.

VIVIANNE'S POV:

I danced with Lord Clem, my skirt and veil swaying with the soft tune of the music. My hands placed lightly on his shoulder while his are on my waist, we dance together just like the others in the ballroom, I can feel their eyes on me and I don't give a damn. I'm here for duty.

I spun around and walked, my feet leaving the dance floor, the music turned into a romantic theme. I talked with Clems a little bit when suddenly, someone interrupted us.

It was him, the young king. The High King Peter of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and The Emperor of Lone Islands.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" he asked, holding out his hand for me to take.

I look at Lord Clems, he gently wave his hands dismissively before leaving.

I turned to him, High King of Narnia. Dressed in midnight blue, crownlight catching in his golden hair like the sun itself bowed to him - his hand extended, palm open. I placed my warm hands in his as he guide me back to the the dance floor.

"Was stealing the spotlight not enough? Now you're stealing dances too?" I said snarkily, placing my hands on his shoulders.

Peter grinned, completely unbothered. "I thought l'd give your poor dance partner a break. He looked seconds away from fainting."

The waltz had begun, and already I could feel that maddening sense of pride radiating from him. Peter Pevensie, the golden boy king. Tall, proud, with a smile that knew it could disarm nations. Of course he would cut in. Of course he'd do it in front of everyone.

"Still charming your way through every kingdom, I see" I murmured, eyes fixed just above his shoulder as we danced.

Peter's lips twitched. "And here I thought Levefre raised its daughters to be kind."

"Oh, we are. Just not to boys with crowns too big for their heads." I answered.

"Is that flattery? I haven't even insulted your kingdom yet." He teased, twirling me easily.

I looked up at him, eyebrow raised. "Careful, High King. You're sounding dangerously close to charmed."

His smile curled at the edges. "Careful, Princess. You're sounding dangerously close to being flattered."

I caught the way his gaze flickered, not toward me, but to the edges of the ballroom. To the nobles lined along the marble pillars, their stares like daggers and whispers barely veiled. His jaw tightened, only slightly.

He was watching them watch us.

We slowed, our steps coming to a still. His hand remained at my waist just a moment too long, as though he wasn't quite ready to let go, and maybe I wasn't either.

Peter looked at me then, and for the first time tonight, it wasn't teasing. His gaze held mine, clear and unflinching, like he was trying to memorize something he'd never admit aloud.

I didn't speak. Neither did he.

He bowed.

I curtsied.

"I hope you're not too insecure," I said, smirking.

He blinked, refocusing on me. "What would I be insecure about?"

"I don't know... too many to list" I twirled under his arm with ease, my fingers slipping against his palm.