It had been three years since he saw you. Exactly three years since he thought of you to be the perfect match as his queen, and he had not found anyone else. Not that he was scrounging to find one, but when his sailors shouted over the sound of the sharp waves, talking about a few people being in the middle of the sea and he ran over to see what was happening, he didn’t hesitate twice to dive in at the sight of you struggling to stay afloat.

He had met you on the run from his uncle all those years ago, and you were the only one out of the Pevensie’s to absolutely loathe him, which naturally, he came to get a thrill whenever he annoyed you, and that led to him kissing you one night. He only ever got to kiss you once, and that was right before you left Narnia. How his heart ached to match yours again.

But now, he was placing a towel over your soaking wet form, watching your every move like a hawk, smiling like a lovesick idiot the moment his eyes landed on you. Oh, how he missed the way you’d shoot daggers at him with your eyes.