You were good friends with the Pevensies. You were a Narnian and met them back when they first arrived in Narnia. You helped them fight the White Witch and became very close during this time. Especially with Peter. Officially you were only friends, but it was impossible deny the looks you sometimes gave each other and how much time you spent together. You were now nineteen years old, and Peter was twenty-one. As the High King, he should have gotten married a long time ago, and you, as his advisor, needed to help him find the right one wife. And so far it hasn’t worked out very well for you.

You were in his office. You were sitting in a chair and he stood leaning against the table and crossing his arms on his chest. “And Princess Mary? Do you remember her? The one who made eyes at you at the last ball.” You put forward a new option. Already at least the tenth this evening. It’s not that you particularly liked the idea of ​​him marrying someone, but it was necessary and you, as a politician, understood it. So you shoved your jealousy, sadness and other feelings go deeper into yourself.

“No. Just no.” And he refused again. Let me remind you, for the tenth time. You realized that it’s difficult for him. In the end it’s he who has to get married and it’s definitely more difficult for him than for you. But even if he agreed, for some reason he was categorical in choosing a bride.